


Ghosts of the Body

by GoldenWitch



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood and Violence, Character Death, Gore, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, i'm not good with tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2020-11-02 02:23:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 121,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20589941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenWitch/pseuds/GoldenWitch
Summary: Summer; a season of abundance, unity, and joy. Riding the verdant winds, five individuals cross paths; their meeting fated to forever change Fódlan. A princess entrenched in darkness; willing to paint the world crimson for the sake of her ideals. A prince plagued by the dead; despair and madness lurking only a few steps behind. A woman in white; sitting atop the mountain all alone, dreaming of a resurrection. A mysterious outsider; the cunning schemer whose dreams were as grand as the starry night sky.And then there was the wildcard; a man carried lifelessly by the waves. The dormant flame inside him will soon burst to life; its potent light threatening to burn through. Many wish to guide him, to use him; but the choice and the path he walks is his alone. But the consequences of his choices will not only affect him; but all of Fódlan.Though blissful, summer is fleeting. As dawn approaches, chaos and strife loom over the horizon. The bodily scars inflicted there forever reminding the victims of the pain they endured and the cruelty of others."Who are you, anyway?""I am a ghost."Formally titled "Ghosts of Fodlan."





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains spoilers for ALL routes + Cindered Shadow DLC. Do not read if you do not wish to be spoiled.  
This is essentially a re-telling of the events of the game, but more so in the "Canon Divergent" category.  


Verdant Wind

Great Tree Moon

Chapter 1: The Beginning

====

_It always started in darkness. Pitch black darkness at first; nothing the eye can see for miles. This part was always your least favorite. You hated the darkness. You hated how vulnerable it made you feel and how it made your mind wander into places you never wanted to go. But most of all, you hated how much it made you feel completely and utterly alone._

_But despite this feeling of dread and despair, you pressed on. You have been here before and you knew what lies at the end; light._

_Hands forward, you blindingly felt your way through the darkness, touching cold, musty stone walls and columns. Some of them are familiar to you in their shape; you have felt them before. With greater confidence, you continued on, the memories of your situation, and past situations like it before, granted a peace of mind._

_Slowly but surely, your surroundings began to slowly brighten. Dimly lit by candles on altar lamps that hung against walls and columns, the grand hall was more visible now. Not completely so, but enough that you could see a path before you to tread; and at the end of that path; there she sat._

_Lying on a throne of stone, a familiar woman sat in slumber. She was fair-skinned with long, verdant green hair that fell all the way to her lower back. An intricate, plated diadem was perched on her head, with a shaped star that lay on her forehead. A long blue dress with gold embellishments cascaded down to her bare feet. As the figure began to stir and awaken, long pointed ears emerge from hiding behind her hair and soon, eyes of curious green stared back at you._

_“Oh my, what could have brought you here?” she murmured, stifling a yawn as she spoke. Her eyes appeared in a groggy daze as she stared at you. “I wonder how you got in here…” _

_“It is most rude to interrupt a moment of repose, very rude indeed.” Her face was stern, as if she was ready to scold you, but yet you did not feel fear or concern. _

_“Now come to me. I wish to have a look at you.” The woman beckoned you to the throne. You didn’t have much reason to disobey and followed suit. She squinted at you and began to look you over._

_“Hm…I’ve not seen the likes of you before. Who are you, anyway?” Her expression began to shift, as well as the tone in her voice to one more coy and playful than before._

_“I am a ghost,” you replied, the words slipping out of your mouth instinctually. They felt natural though and so you did not question it._

_“Ahh, I see it now. Yes, you are a ghost, are you?” Her stoic expression soon began to crack as her lips twitched into a smile that she struggled to control._

_“Well if you are a ghost, then I guess I must be one as well? Oh my, what a frightful thought that is.” The woman burst into soft chuckles as she pondered the notion. She paused for a moment, a warm smile spread across her face as she gazed at you. Her eyes fully opened and her body appearing more alert now; she stood up from her throne and extended out her hand to you._

_“But enough of the jests and games; come now, for we must get ready.” You extended your hand out to reach hers, your vision beginning to rapidly dissolve. Her form and everything around you began to blur and soon you could only see a bright light; her voice rang out one last time._

_“It is almost time to begin.”_

====

4/18, Year 1180

“Byleth, wake up!”

Eyes suddenly open, Byleth found himself lying in a bed in a cold sweat; his breathing hard and ragged. His right arm outstretched upwards, like he was reaching out for something – or someone. His eyes shifted to the left and saw a familiar face looking at him, Jeralt. His mind began to clear up and remember where he was, Byleth began to start to slowly regulate his breathing.

“It’s okay, kid. Just me.” Jeralt reassured his son. “You look awful. You were having one of those dreams again weren’t you?”

Byleth, managing to bring himself to sit upwards, just rubbed his temples and nodded his head to his father. He barely had any energy to speak.

“What was it about this time?” Jeralt tried to hide the amount of concern in his voice, but Byleth could hear it. This wasn’t the first time his father asked him this question, and each time he seemed to get more stressed with each answer. Byleth could not fathom why.

“The woman,” Byleth answered; his expression remaining stoic and unfazed by the subject. As a child, the bizarre dreams Byleth would get would often shake him up a bit. They were typically violent and he would wake up screaming. As he got older and became a mercenary, Byleth found himself not affected by it much anymore. Gore and blood loses its shock value after one has killed their fellow man so many times.

“Was she the same one as before?” Jeralt asked, his eyes shifting around, refusing to meet his son’s. Byleth just nodded his head in return, Jeralt’s expression twisting in pain and concern for a brief moment. Byleth wasn’t exactly sure why it bothered his father so much, but he didn’t feel like pressing about it. Instead, he changed the subject.

“Why did you wake me up?”

“Why do you think?” Jeralt griped, his concern transforming into agitation. “You overslept again. We need to get going. The border is far from here so we need to leave soon.”

They were in Remire Village, a small village at the foot of the Oghma Mountains, in Adrestian Empire territory. They had stopped in the village for a night’s sleep before stepping back on the road again to travel. Their band of mercenaries was heading to the border to enter the Kingdom of Faerghus, where they had a job offer waiting for them. Jeralt was the leader of the band and took his son with him wherever he went. Byleth had never intended to become a mercenary, though he never protested to it either.

“You know you were talking in your sleep again?” Jeralt questioned, turning his head towards his son. “I haven’t seen you do that in nearly thirteen years. You said something about ‘The Beginning’ over and over again; it was really bizarre. Any idea what that was about?”

Byleth shook his head no; his memories of his dreams weren’t exactly clear. Byleth could only blankly stare at his father as he tried to remember his dreams.

“Ahh, never mind then,” Jeralt said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Forgive your old man for asking dumb questions.”

“But we really do need to get moving. Get dressed and get ready to go, everyone is already waiting outside for us. And truly, forget what I said about earlier. I can’t afford you being distracted on the battlefield with your mind wandering. Just focus on the task at hand.” He commanded, walking out of the room.

Byleth sat and watched him leave, and began to shift his feet to the side of the bed. He let out a heavy sigh as he began to rub the back of his own neck. He really wanted to go back to sleep. His father would leave him behind if he didn’t get moving, so Byleth begrudgingly got up and out of the bed.

It didn’t take Byleth long to get dressed and gather what few items he had sorted, assembled, and packed. Constantly on the road, Byleth learned to always travel light. Byleth gazed at his reflection in a mirror on top of the drawer across the bed.

Standing five feet nine inches tall, his work as a mercenary gave him an athletic body to his medium frame. His hair was loosely kept, the color being a deep shade of teal and the length coming to his shoulders. His long bangs sometimes got in the way of his blue eyes, but he could never bring himself to cut it, despite his father’s nagging.

He looked nothing like his father. There were many times Byleth suspected he wasn’t even truly Jeralt’s son. But then again, he could not think of a reason for Jeralt to lie about it either; so he never brought it up. Turning towards his things, he grabbed his belongings and left.

====

Stepping outside, Byleth took a moment to observe his surroundings. It was nighttime. The stars were lighting up the sky, the Great Tree Moon not yet full. Although the night sky was in full view; it would be dawn soon and they needed to hurry. Jeralt stood just a few feet away from Byleth, assembling his own belongings and supplies. Jeralt motioned Byleth to come over to him and was about to say something when he was interrupted by one of the mercenaries, a new recruit that Byleth couldn’t bother to remember the name of.

“Jeralt, sir! Sorry to interrupt, but bandits were reported heading towards this village, and then there are these three…” The mercenary motioned to three youths behind him, close to Byleth’s age but definitely younger. Two boys and a girl, armed, out of breath, and scraped up. The three of them wore the same kind of black uniform of a particular design Byleth didn’t recognize, but each had different colored capes attached to them, blue, yellow and red. The one with the blue cape was the first one to speak.

“Please forgive our intrusion. We wouldn’t bother you were the situation not so dire.” He said, giving a small bow. His formal speech suggested he had a good education, likely coming from a noble family of some kind. He was a tall, pale young adult in the black uniform. His hair was short and blonde with floppy bangs that cluttered his face. He diligently held a spear behind him.

“What are a bunch of kids like you all out for at this hour?” Jeralt questioned, seemingly unfazed by the sense of urgency the blue one was trying to convey.

“We’re being pursued by a group of bandits. I can only hope you would be so kind as to lend your support, in our time of need.” Blue responded, his face remaining composed despite the situation.

“They attacked us while we were resting at our camp. Unfortunately they seem quite serious about taking us out.” The girl responded. She was petite with a fair complexion, but armed,just like the other two. She wielded an axe that was almost as large as her. Byleth spotted a small dagger on her belt as well. Her hair was long, white, with a huge forehead separating the bangs that framed her face. Her eyes were lavender and the ribbons in her hair matched their color. Her uniform was black like the others, but her cape was red.

“We’ve been separated from our companions, and we’re outnumbered. They followed us all the way out here and still aren’t letting up.” This boy was different from the other two. He had a much darker complexion compared to the other two; a warm, light brown skin with green eyes to accompany it. His hair was short with a dark brown color to it. While short, it was loose and wild, save for a small braid that went alongside the right side of his face. Like the others, he wore black uniforms but his cape was yellow. A bow and quiver rested on his back.

With the quality of their clothes and appearances, and their seemingly good education from how they spoke; Byleth could plainly see what they had in front of them, aristocratic brats. Someone probably hired someone else to kidnap them for ransom, most likely. Or the bandits just wanted to rob them and kill them on the spot.

“I’m impressed you’re all rather calm, given the situation. I…wait. That uniform--” He started, a flash of recognition touching his eyes before one of his mercenaries interrupted.

“Sir, the bandits are here! There are a lot of them too.” One of Jeralt’s mercenaries shouted, waiting for his superior’s orders. The Blade Breaker sighed in response and turned back to the three youths.

“I guess they followed you all the way here. We can’t let them ransack the village. If you three are capable of fighting, follow us.” He turned his attention to Byleth and the other mercenaries. “Come on, let’s move out. Let’s take out these thugs.”

It only took a couple of minutes to get to the edge of the village where the bandits were. They were standing by the gates of the village and straight across them was a large field, and to the right was the edge of a forest. It was still dark and Byleth couldn’t make out any individual figures across the field or in the forest, but he could see torch flames in the distance. They numbered at least twenty.

“Shit, there really are a lot.” Jeralt mumbled. Even including the three teenagers, the bandits were double their size in numbers. Jeralt paused for a moment, contemplating his strategy.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” he ordered, turning towards his son and the three youths. “Byleth, you take the kids and stick to the forest side and keep one torch on. Meanwhile, the rest of us will drag them out to the field and take them out there. We’re only going to set two of our torches ablaze to make them think just two of the kids are there and take them by surprise. They should split into two groups, and hopefully, you guys should only have to deal with a smaller group.”

“Stick to the forest and keep heading north and reach the watchtower. We’ll meet you there. Stay together, listen to my son, and we’ll get you out alive.” He commanded, patting Byleth on the shoulder as he and the other mercenaries headed towards the field. They went in dark at first, but once they got a good distance away, two torches lit up, just as he had said.

Taking the cue, Byleth motioned the youths behind him to follow him and the four of them entered the forest line. Right by the edge, Byleth stopped and turned on one of the torches he was carrying and held it for a good minute until he saw movement from the enemy lines in the distance. They were starting to separate. Byleth counted eight torchlights heading towards them. Not nearly as small of a group he was hoping for, especially since he did not know well the other three could fight, and there was the possibility he’d have to take all of the bandits by himself. Byleth certainly did not like the odds of one person against eight.

“Let’s go and stay close.” Byleth said, heading deep in the forest, as the other three followed suit. The torch being their only source of light, the youths kept close to Byleth to avoid running into forest debris; although Byleth could’ve swore he heard one of them stumble a bit.

“Hey, uh, shouldn’t we be following your dad? To be honest, I’d rather go with him and have better chances of keeping my head on my shoulders.” Yellow said, his grip firmly attached to the bow in his hand, arrows at the ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

“Were you not paying attention to what was said earlier? This is part of the plan the other mercenaries are doing.” Blue said. “And must you insult the man trying to help us? We are in no position to complain.”

“You of all people are the last one to be complaining.This is your fault, after all.” Red replied, speaking to Yellow. Based on the tone of the three, Byleth assumed these three were familiar with one another or at the very least, acquaintances.

“My fault? None of us would be in this situation if you two hadn’t followed me.”

“That’s because you ran away from battle.” Red spat, clearly annoyed and fed up.

“Yeah, because I didn’t want to be chopped up by bandits; you can’t blame me for that.” Yellow scoffed. “My plan would have worked too if you two hadn’t followed me and dragged them right back to me.”

Byleth stopped dead in his tracks and quietly observed the area around them. The path they were on was narrow, but if they went any deeper, it would begin to widen. This would have to be the place.

“We’ll make our stand here.” Byleth ordered. He turned to Red and Blue and pointed towards a large tree on the left side of the trail. Fortunately, the torch was bright enough for all of them to see where to go.

“You two, hide behind that tree, and I’ll be behind the other one. As they come down that path, we’ll take them out as they pass through the choke point.

“And you,” he said, turning towards Yellow and handing him the torch.

“You get to be bait, since you like running so much.” Byleth had expected some more complaints from him, but was surprised to get a chuckle out of the boy instead.

“Alright, alright. Fair enough. But you three better be ready. I am not dying out here.” He said, before jolting off down the path towards the bandits coming their way. Without the torch, Byleth couldn’t see Red and Blue, but he didn’t hear them move from their position either.

For a couple of minutes it was silence, the only thing that could be heard was the crickets chirping in the distance. It was taking too long; longer than Byleth was anticipating. Blue spoke up, speaking what the rest had on their minds.

“You don’t think he ran off--” he whispered, but couldn’t finish before being interrupted by voices in the distance.

“There he is! The runaway one!” a bandit cried out.

“Come here ya’ little shit!” yelled another.

“Don’t let that brat get away! He’s heading further in the forest! Catch him before he slips away for good!” As he listened, Byleth heard more voices shouting commands and obscenities. Some of the voices were louder than others, he hoped that meant they were more spread out.

“Follow my lead and keep pushing forward. Stay on your guard and don’t let them flank you.” Byleth hissed, loud enough for the other two to hear,. He peered down the path and saw a torchlight in the distance, followed by two smaller ones not far from the first.

It was time.

Unsheathing his sword, Byleth grabbed the blade by the grip, leaned back against the tree and held the blade upright and over his chest. He closed his eyes and listened. The footsteps became louder and louder as the voices began to increase in volume as well. Byleth opened his eyes and could see the outline of Red and Blue as their surroundings began to get brighter and brighter.

A loud ‘whoosh’ could be heard as Yellow ran passed them, stopping just a little further distance away. Leaning over, he began to breathe heavily, tired from all the running. He looked straight into Byleth’s eyes and then looked straight ahead of him, gazing at the direction he came from.

“Tired from all that running are you?” a bandit cried out, just right in reaching distance. “Well come here you brat and let me--”

In one quick motion, Byleth took the base of his pommel by the grip and struck the first bandit in the chest, effectively winding him and knocking him off balance. Not letting the bandit take a moment to recover, he took the blade of his sword and pierced the man in the abdomen, killing him.

Not delaying a moment’s notice, Red and Blue jumped out from their positions and headed towards the second bandit. Red threw a powerful swing of her axe and placed a heavy blow on the man’s right side. Blue finished him off by piercing him through with his spear; the bandit’s body falling over to the side as Blue slid the corpse off his lance. Byleth motioned them forward, and the four of them pushed in. Another pair of bandits greeted them.

“Ah!” Red cried out as she swung her axe at the third bandit, instead of waiting for Byleth’s lead. But her efforts were in vain, missing her target and leaving herself wide open. The bandit tried to take a strike at her with his sword, but Byleth blocked it with his own. He proceeded to kick the bandit in the chest; knocking him to the ground where Byleth then took his sword and plunged it through the bandit’s chest.

Byleth watched as an arrow from Yellow’s bow soared through the air and pierced the fourth bandit, Blue following it up with another finishing blow with his spear, lopping off their head. Four bandits down. The smell of blood filled the air and there was definitely some on his clothes; but they were alive and almost done.

Byleth and his companions continued on and soon were met with four bandits clustered together. Yellow got the first hit, hitting one of the bandits with an arrow. Byleth took the initiative to finish the bandit off by slashing his jugular. As he flicked the blood of his sword , he heard the body slump onto the ground.

Suddenly, another bandit came rushing up and tried to strike at him, but his swing was blocked by Blue, who had rushed in to intercede. Byleth quickly recovered, and while the bandit was locked defensively against Blue, Byleth swung his blade overhead and struck the man in the head from above.

In the corner of his eye, Byleth watched as another bandit came after Red, who quickly dodged his attack. It left the bandit wide open, Red taking the opportunity to strike him down, smashing his skull with her axe, killing him instantly.

They were at the edge of the forest now and Byleth could see the watchtower just up ahead. The other three fought better than Byleth had expected. They were all out of breath and roughed up, but they were alive and held their own, which caught Byleth by surprise.

“We’re almost done. Let’s head over to that watchtower so we can mee--” Byleth had started before he was tackled to the ground.

“Damn you!” The bandit cried out. Byleth missed this one. He had forgotten about the last bandit, who had managed to sneak away from the combat for a bit before coming back to take out Byleth. Pinned against the ground, the bandit kept Byleth down as he pulled a knife, about to strike him down before a ‘whoosh’ of an arrow gave him pause.

Another ‘whoosh’ noise could be heard above Byleth. In the blink of an eye, two arrows came flying and pierced the bandit straight in the eye socket and chest; his mouth left open and his dead body slumping to the side with a thud.

“There we go. Not bad, if I do say so myself.” Yellow scoffed with a smirk. He walked over to Byleth and extended his hand to help him up. Byleth accepted his hand and was quickly pulled upwards.

“We should probably head towards the watchtower and regroup with your father; before any more bandits show up.” Blue said, motioning towards the watchtower in the distance. Byleth nodded in agreement and the four of them quickly crossed the fields over to the watchtower, where Byleth quickly saw the figure of his father.

“There you are! Glad to see you all are in one piece. The men are out scouting the area for remaining bandits. There were more than we initially thought and--” Jeralt breathed a sigh of relief and waved them over, suddenly stopping when an ugly, burly man with dark hair and a beard popped out of nowhere, an axe in his hand.

“You! You aren’t supposed to be here! There weren’t supposed to be mercenaries here. This was supposed to be an easy job. Kill a few brats, get easy pay. One way or another; I’m getting my damn money! Die!” He pointed furiously at the father-son mercenaries and lunged forward. Despite his size, the bandit was fast. Too fast. He was heading straight towards Red, who had quickly grabbed the dagger from her belt and was ready to defend herself but…

Too fast. Gunning for Red.

‘Always do the right thing, Byleth.’

Without even thinking, Byleth ran straight towards Red, turning his back against the attacker so he could push her to the side; something that caught her off guard. Byleth closed his eyes as he braced for the impact of the attack.

But it never came.

====

He opened his eyes, and instead of being in front of the watchtower with his father and the three noble youths; it was just darkness. Byleth couldn’t see a thing. He wandered around in confusion, staring at the darkness, looking for any source of light to tell him where he was when—

“Honestly! What are you accomplishing with that little stunt?!” A sharp voice rang out; a girl’s. Byleth quickly turned around and saw a familiar scene before him. A small green haired girl with pointed ears sitting upon a stone throne and gazed upon him.

That throne. He has seen that throne before, but he could not put his finger as to where he saw it. He could not recognize the girl, but something about her seemed nostalgic, like a long-lost relative.

“It is like you are trying to get us killed, you fool!” The girl yelled as she stared at Byleth in anger for a few seconds, before quickly just sighing to herself.

“Well, it is fine.” She said, quickly changing her tune. “After all, this is not the first time you have done this. For whatever reason you can’t seem to grasp the value of your life. All these reckless acts of yours, so shameful; truly.”

“But I guess it is up to me to help you see the light on such matters. After all, there is no one else that can guide you on such matters like me, right?” she giggled to herself, clapping her hands together. Byleth just stared at her in confusion. Just who was this girl? Where was he?

“My name is Sothis. But I am also known as…‘The Beginning.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to Dtale for beta reading this chapter.


	2. The Flow of Time

Verdant Wind

Great Tree Moon

Chapter 2: The Flow of Time

====

_Year 1167_

_Heavy boots made a heavy indent in the soft earth as through the path following the tree line. Rain had just swept through the land days ago, leaving the soil very loose and easy to make marks in. The mercenary watched the ground carefully, following a path of a small child’s footprints that lead deeper into the trees. Only a pair of two feet, the individual having even slipped in mud at one point, Jeralt could see the spot where the child fell._

_Eventually the tracks lead him to a large, white oak tree. Its coloring made it stand out from the other trees in the woods and it stood in the middle of a clearing. Jeralt walked silently to it, gazing upwards as he stood and observed the child that slept in the crook of one of the limbs of the tree. A messy mop of teal blue hair stood out among the green leaves; the boy was sleeping peacefully and Jeralt almost hated to disturb him. Almost._

_“I thought I told you to quit this habit of yours,” Jeralt spoke, crossing his arms as he stood. “If you fall off while sleeping, you can get hurt. Get down from there.” _

_The boy in the tree opened his eyes but did not move or speak; just continued to stare blankly at the older man below him, before turning his eyes to the blue sky._

_“I said get down here now, Byleth.” He ordered. His tone did not indicate this would be a pleasant discussion. “We need to have a talk.” _

_Silently, seven year old Byleth obeyed his father and quickly climbed down the tree. Barefooted, knees scraped up, mud all over his clothes and even in his hair; Jeralt could only sigh at the sight._

_“Do you know what I’m here to talk to you about?” Jeralt asked. The boy shook his head, oblivious._

_“I’m getting reports from the people in the village that you are being mean to the other kids. Calling them names, hitting them, beating them with sticks and rocks; tell me why you would do this?” Jeralt had a pained expression on his face as he spoke; ashamed and embarrassed of his son’s behavior. He struggled to understand the boy._

_“I dunno.” Byleth responded, his head turned away, not even bothering to look at his father._

_“That’s not a good enough answer.” Jeralt sighed, trying his best to remain calm, which became harder at each second. “Now tell me again why--damn it Byleth, look at me! Look at me when I talk to you.”_

_Jeralt brought himself down to the boy’s level and grabbed Byleth by the shoulders; but the boy still wouldn’t look. Taking his right hand, he took his son’s chin and turned his face towards him. The boy fought him, but was no match even for a fraction of his father’s strength. Blue eyes locked on brown. The boy caved._

_“Every time you leave, they say you won’t come back.”_

_Ah, there it was; the real reason why. Byleth turned away from his father’s gaze again, but this time kept his head down and draped his arms around his father in a tight hug, burying his face into Jeralt’s chest. Jeralt’s face fell as the boy clung to him. Byleth never cried as a child, not even as a baby. He never laughed either; he never showed much of any kind of emotion. This was the saddest his son could ever get, but it still broke Jeralt’s heart every time._

_“Come on now, Byleth, you know that’s not true.” Jeralt returned the embrace, backing away and placing one hand on Byleth’s head, gently ruffling the hair on the top of the boy’s head. “They’re just kids, Byleth. They don’t understand; they don’t know any better. But you know better.”_

_“Please don’t go.” Byleth murmured. A heavy sigh escaped Jeralt’s lips as he stood._

_“Byleth, I just got back.” They always had this conversation, but Jeralt was surprised to hear it so soon after his return._

_“But you always go. I don’t want you to go. Please stay.” Byleth tightened his grip around his father’s waist, latching onto him tight._

_“Byleth, do you know what I do for a living; what I do for work?” Jeralt asked._

_“You fight.” Byleth answered, his response simple and to the point. Jeralt chuckles at how blunt his son could be at times. It reminded him of his late wife._

_“Yeah, you’re right. I do fight.” Jeralt paused for a moment, thinking about his choice of words. _

_“But I don’t just fight; I fight to protect people. I fight so others don’t have to, because it’s the right thing to do.” _

_Gently, Jeralt pulled his son off of him and knelt down, face to face once again. “What I do is very important work. Doing the right thing is very important. It isn’t easy, in fact, most of the time it is very hard to do. But it’s important and worth doing._

_“But picking fights with other kids in the village is not the right thing to do.” Jeralt continued, staring straight at his son, hoping to drive home the point. “In fact, a lot of the villagers are starting to think poorly of you because of it and it upsets me. Do you know why it upsets me?” _

_The boy shook his head._

_“It upsets me, because I know you’re a good kid. You’re a good kid Byleth, and I know that if you just behave yourself and open up a little; everyone else would be able to see that too.” Jeralt’s eyes softened for a moment as he tried to have a heart to heart with his son._

_“Now,” Jeralt returned to his typically hardened expression, preparing to give the boy his penance. “I want you to promise me you’re gonna act better from now on. You have to do the right thing from now on, no more losing your temper at the other kids. Got it?”_

_“Got it.” Byleth murmured. His face doesn’t look particularly impressed by the conversation, but Jeralt knew that when push comes to shove, Byleth will listen and obey._

_“Good,” Jeralt patted Byleth on the head and tossed his hair around, although with the back of Byleth’s hair being caked in mud; it doesn’t move around too much. Jeralt’s expression crinkles for a moment as he brushed the larger chunks out of his son’s hair, flicking off the debris that remained on his glove and picked up his son, letting out a heavy groan as he does so. The boy was growing fast and was almost too heavy to carry. Jeralt imagined he wouldn’t be able to do this anymore soon enough. The duo started heading back to the village, going down the trail he used to find his son._

_“Now, let’s get you home and cleaned up. Once that’s done, we’re gonna go around and you’re gonna go apologize to the folks in the village. And if you’re really on good behavior, I may be able to help you get some friends.”_

_“Noooo…I don’t want any friends.” Byleth whined._

_“No?” Jeralt asked, confused. “Why not?”_

_“I don’t need friends; I have Sothy!” He exclaimed._

_“Soapy? Who is that? Oh, is that your imaginary friend?” Jeralt asked, humoring the young lad._

_“It’s ‘Sothy,’ Dad!” Byleth corrected him. “And she is real! You just can’t see her.”_

_“Right, right…” Jeralt murmured, trying to wrap his head around the conversation. “Well, no offense to Sothy, but you could use a few more friends; especially ones that I can see.” _

_Byleth let out a low whine and grumbled in protest, but didn’t fight his father on the subject anymore. The rest of the walk back to the village is quiet as young Byleth fell asleep in his father’s arms._

====

4/18, Year 1180

“My name is Sothis. But I am also known as…“‘The Beginning.’”

Byleth stood in the darkness, quite perturbed and very confused. He watched as the girl in front of him introduced herself, and while he heard the words coming out of her mouth, he was by no means listening. His face was twisted in bewilderment as he tried to comprehend what was going on. The girl had yet to notice.

“You…truly do not remember me? At all? Not even the name ‘Sothy’ rings a bell?” She asked him, crestfallen as Byleth caught her question, shaking his head.

“Oh, the nerve of you!” She exclaimed, her face growing red in anger. “After all the times I have saved you, this is what I get in return? Do you know how many times slipped on a rock and nearly cracked your skull? Do you know how many times you fell out of that stupid tree and nearly broke your neck all because you decided it would be a good place to nap there? Countless. Countless times.”

“And I,” She continued, still a tad aggravated. “In all of my benevolence, saved you each and every time. What do I get in exchange for all of my hard work? Why, you don’t even bother to remember me at all! Not my name, not my face; nothing!”

She proceeded to fall back on her throne and slumped into it. She glared at Byleth, as if waiting for an answer or response. Byleth says nothing, only staring at her in confusion.

“Apologize, you fool!” She yelled, more so an order than a request. Byleth stepped back a little, taken aback by her ferocity.

“I’m…sorry?” Byleth mumbled, still very confused and disoriented on the whole situation. But against his nature to fight back, he relented to her. Her voice and temperament felt familiar, even if he couldn’t quite place it.

“Good! Now, thank me.” She demanded, only partially sated.

“Thank you for what?” Byleth asked; either feeling bolder, or more foolish, as the conversation went on. He still wasn’t sure what the girl was doing to help him or what she deserved thanks for.

“For saving your life,” she hissed. “A life which you so seemingly are eager to throw away. What are you thinking putting yourself in harm’s way just to save one girl for? You don’t even know her!”

“It was the right thing to do,” Byleth responded, his eyes glaring at the girl on the throne. Sothis just shook her head and rubbed her temple.

“Right or not, you would have died for that, had I not intervened. That axe would have teared right into your flesh and you would have met your end at the hands of that stupid oaf of a bandit. How shameful.” Byleth winced at her words, but did not suspect that she was lying. He did foolishly jump in and left himself vulnerable to the attack.

“How did you stop it?” Byleth asked, genuinely curious, on top of changing the subject away from what he owed her. Sothis’ verdant green eyes glimmered at the question.

“I have stalled the flow of time,” she said with great pride. “I can rewind time too, albeit only momentarily. I cannot go back too far, but it is something; and it has saved your hide many, many times. Even as a child, you were so eager to hurl yourself to death’s door. I had thought you had grown out of that habit by now, but I guess not.”

“So…you’ll rewind time again for me?” Byleth cautiously asked. It seemed logical for her to do so; he imagined she wouldn’t waste time explaining it all to him if she wasn’t. Byleth wasn’t particularly keen on dying either, despite his actions and what the girl may have thought.

“I don’t know, will I?” she taunted in a mocking tone. “After all, the last time I did you did not even bother to remember me and you refuse to be grateful for all I have done for you. I could easily just let you face the consequences of the decisions you so foolishly made.”

Byleth winced and gulped nervously. She was serious. A tad stubborn, but so was he.

“Thank you for saving my ass, oh great, mighty Sothis.” He replied with uncharacteristically dramatic flair, bowing as to hide the roll of his eyes.

“I suppose it was too much to ask you to be genuinely grateful.” She sighed, but smiled despite herself. “I will forgive you for your vulgarity and disrespect for now, and will accept your ‘gratitude;’ but know that I will not always be so gracious in the future.

“So, are you ready?” she asked, her arm rising as if to cast a spell.

“Ready for what?” Byleth asked, completely oblivious.

“For me to rewind time, you fool!” She yelled, dropping her arm immediately as a frustrated groan slipped from her mouth. She writhed in her seat in anger. “Honestly, have you not been paying attention at all?”

“I am not sure how this works, the rewinding of time.” Byleth stated. He could feel sweat forming on the back of his neck. This whole thing confused him and made him nervous; it was all way too much for the aloof mercenary to process.

“I will rewind time back to just before the bandit charges towards the girl. If you wish to save her, be prepared to defend her properly this time and do not mess it up.” She paused for a moment, glaring at Byleth, whom she is still angry at. “Are you ready for that?”

“I guess.” Byleth said, still uneasy and unsure on the whole thing, though he supposed he didn’t have much choice. Sothis simply sighed in response.

“Then that will have to do.” She scoffed, lifting up her right arm with which she held a green glass orb. The orb flashed with great intensity and soon a blinding light quickly enveloped them.

“And do not forget me this time!” She shouted, lost within the blinding array.

====

Opening his eyes, Byleth looked around him. He was on the outskirts of Remire Village again, with Red, Blue, and Yellow behind him. He could see his father waving towards them in the distance.

“There you are! Glad to see you all are in one piece. The men are out scouting the area for remaining bandits. There were more than we initially thought and--” Exactly like before, the ugly bandit showed up and interrupted Jeralt around the same time.

“You! You aren’t supposed to be here! There weren’t supposed to be mercenaries here. This was supposed to be an easy job. Kill a few brats, get easy pay. One way or another, I’m getting my damn money! Die!” He rushed forward. Just like before, the bandit was surprisingly fast. And like before, the bandit was gunning for Red.

Like before, Byleth pushed Red out of the way to intercept the attack. But unlike before, Byleth prepared for the attack. He unsheathed his sword and parried the bandit’s axe with the blade, pushing the bandit back and knocking him off balance. Using the moment of vulnerability, Byleth took his sword and plunged it into the bandit’s chest. The bandit let out a feeble cry as his body fell to the ground, blood spreading around the heart-piercing wound. Soon, the bandit lay motionless.

Jeralt, with a flash of worry on his face, rushed up to them with his sword drawn, slowly resheathing it.

“Are you guys okay?!”

Byleth and the other three nodded, and Jeralt let out a sigh of relief. He looked to the corpse below them.

“He mentioned money, right? Guess this must’ve been some kind of hit job.” Jeralt quickly inspected the pockets of the bandit, avoiding his chest. “No paperwork or anything that can give us a clue to who hired the hit on him, I’m afraid. Either he must be really sloppy, or whoever hired the hit puts more priority on not being discovered versus the job getting done. Any idea on who could’ve done this?”

“Unfortunately, due to our ranking and prestige,” Red spoke. “It may be hard to determine who hired this hit. After all, the three of us are the heirs of each of our houses and nation. There are countless people who would like to see our heads roll.

“And If I may,” Red continued, bowing politely. “I would like to formally introduce myself. My name is Edelgard von Hresvelg, heir apparent of the Adrestian Empire.”

“My name is Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, I am the crown prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.” Blue bowed, following suit of Red’s introduction.

“Of course, naturally that makes me Claude von Riegan, heir to House Riegan and future leader of the Leicester Alliance.” Yellow said with a hint of nonchalance, his eyes flickering between Jeralt and Byleth. “The three of us are students at the Officer’s Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery, and were doing some training exercises with our professor when the bandits attacked.”

“And where is your professor?” Jeralt asked, a hint of recognition at the name of the monastery but yet to act on it.

“He ran away at the first sign of the bandits.” Blue answered, his face falling into a scowl.

“Like someone I know…” Red murmured, glaring at Yellow. Yellow just flashed a coy smile in return. Suddenly, a group of armored clad individuals come into view, led by a large man with brown head and facial hair. He wore shining silver armor that was already reflecting the light of the edge of dawn, making him difficult to look at.

“Edelgard! Dimitri! Claude! Oh thank the Goddess we found you—wait a minute, is that... Jeralt?!” He exclaimed, visibly shocked. His loudness and dramatic flair made it seem like this man was constantly running a comedic bit.

“Oh, shit,” Jeralt groaned, quickly turning away from the other man, as if he could try and hide from him.

“It is you! Oh, how many years has it been?! I think it was at least twenty since you mysteriously disappeared on us! And look at you; you haven’t changed a bit! What are you doing here?” His voice and demeanor was upbeat and jovial as he let out a jovial laugh.

“You haven’t changed a bit either, Alois.” Jeralt briefly rubbed the temples of his forehead and let out a heavy sigh. “As far as what I am doing here, well, I was heading with my mercenary group to Faerghus, but ended up having to save your students here.”

“So you are the one we have to thank for saving our students! Why am I not surprised? But still, I must thank you and must insist you come back with me to the monastery! Oh I’m sure Lady Rhea will be pleased as punch to see you again, and she’d want to thank you in person for all you have done.” Alois looked very excited at the thought of Jeralt returning back to the monastery.

“Oh no, no, no. That is not necessary.” Jeralt crossed his arms and physically backed away from Alois. Byleth couldn’t help but cock an eyebrow at the scene. He had never seen his father so…flustered before.

“I insist, Jeralt, really. If Lady Rhea finds out that you helped us and I didn’t return back with you, why she’d cook me like a goose. Stick a fork in me; because I’d be ‘done.’ Ohoho!” Alois couldn’t help himself but slap his own knee at his own joke. Everyone around physically winced at the pun but remained silent. Jeralt in particular stood silently for a few moments before responding; likely contemplating his options.

“I guess it was inevitable…” He murmured. He quickly turned to Byleth and the rest of the mercenaries behind them. “Alright, change of plans, folks. We’ll be making a pit stop at Garreg Mach Monastery, but we’re still heading to Faerghus afterwards.”

Byleth could hear some light grumbling and whispers of complaints from some of Jeralt’s mercenaries. He knew that despite their complaining, they’d still follow orders and Byleth would do the same.

“Wonderful! Oh the archbishop is going to be so happy to see you!” Alois exclaimed, patting a disgruntled Jeralt on the back. He turned to the side and caught notice of Byleth and realized something.

“You there!” He said, motioning to Byleth. “You wouldn’t happen to be the Captain’s son would you?”

“I have never seen this man before in my life.” Byleth replied, as if on instinct. In return, Jeralt lightly slapped Byleth on the back of the head.

“Yes, he’s my son. His name is Byleth. ” Jeralt said as he glared at his son, he turned back to Alois. “Although I’m surprised you managed to figure that out.”

“Why ever so?” Alois asked. “He looks just like you!”

Jeralt’s face distorted in a quizzical expression in response and Byleth couldn't help but start to think of the knight as a moron.

“He looks more like his mother.” Jeralt murmured, gazing at his son, briefly lost in memories of his wife. Not letting himself reminisce for too long, he quickly changed the subject, motioning to his band of mercenaries. “Anyway, if we’re heading to Garreg Mach Monastery we should head out soon.”

He and Alois led the group as Alois continued talking. Byleth silently followed them with the rest of the group, when he suddenly felt the weight of another on his shoulder. It was Yellow, who had his arm around Byleth’s shoulder and was getting far too cozy than Byleth would have preferred.

“So…your name is Byleth, eh? Your dad, Jeralt, as in Jeralt the Blade Breaker, right? Most famous knight of the Knights of Seiros? I bet you have some fun stories to tell and lots of secrets; and I am all ears for both.” Yellow flashed a mischievous smile that Byleth couldn’t help but want to smack right off his face.

“Please, Claude, show some restraint.” Blue said, exasperated. “Would it kill you to demonstrate the tact and grace your social standing expects of you? Give the man some space.”

Yellow simply rolled his eyes and made mocking gestures of Blue with his free hand.

“I myself must admit, I am very curious about our mysterious savior as well.” Red chimes in, standing next to Byleth on his free side. “Your efforts in battle are exemplary and you are greatly skilled. As a mercenary, I bet you must have some unique experiences and fascinating stories. I would love to hear more.”

And thus began the longest, most painfully awkward five hours of Byleth’s life as he juggled the questions from three very nosy teenagers, who had a tendency to dissolve and argue amongst themselves. As their group spied Garreg Mach Monastery on the horizon, Byleth could not be any more relieved.

Upon entering the monastery, the group split into two; the three teenagers left to their own devices, while Jeralt and his mercenary band followed Alois and his knights further into the monastery. Alois took his time giving a brief tour, mainly him and Jeralt commenting on changes and things that didn’t change since Jeralt was last there. Out of the corner of his eye, Byleth spied a light-green haired woman in white stare at their group from a room in the third story of the monastery. Byleth found the woman’s staring unsettling.

====

Rhea was one of the first ones to know of the return of the Knights and the students. She had requested the outlooks to let her know immediately upon their return, and they did not fail her. Losing track of their students to bandits was bad enough; but to have one of their own staff abandon their students, those the monastery had sworn to protect and guide them in their studies, was downright shameful.

Even more concerning, these students in particular were the heirs of the nations of Fodlan; if anything were to happen to them there would be a political uproar and chaos. Naturally, the Church of Seiros would be right in the middle of all of it and indirectly responsible. Rhea could not change the damage that had been done, but she sent the best of her Knights to quickly salvage the situation. She stayed up all night waiting for their return or a report back on the situation.

She stood by the window in the conference room, watching the gates of the monastery like a hawk. She was rather high up, on the third floor of the building. It was the best location to have a view of the happenings of the whole monastery. As the gates of the monastery were lifted, she watched closely for those that passed through.

The first individuals she saw were the silver silhouettes of the knights. All seemed to be accounted for and no one seemed injured. Alois’ robust size and armour helped him stick out among them, along with not wearing his helmet again. Rhea would have to see that Seteth spoke to him again about that later.

The second batch of individuals were the three students, the yellow, blue, and red colored capes sticking out like sore thumbs against their black uniforms. A wave of relief rushed over Rhea; crisis averted. Still shameful, and she truly was caught off guard by the cowardice of someone under her own employment; but the students were alive and seemingly unharmed. Rhea was about to turn from the window and return to her quarters when she spotted another group of individuals enter the gate.

Most definitely armed, no uniform and she couldn’t recognize any of them from a distance. Most likely mercenaries, but Rhea did not give the orders to hire any. She watched as the students broke off from the rest of the group, most likely to return to their other classmates or other faculty. The main group of knights and mercenaries continued forward through the monastery, and Rhea watched silently as they began to get closer and closer. Soon, they were close enough to where she could roughly make out their faces.

She recognized Jeralt first and did so almost instantly. After all these years, Jeralt has finally returned to the Church. But why? Rhea remembered the day he left, the tragic circumstances that prelude to it and most likely clouded his judgement. Rhea did not blame him for leaving, but she failed to see why he would come back. She gazed at the individual next to him and took a step back in surprise.

“Sitr—no,” she corrected herself. It was not Sitri. Not her Sitri, but rather, most definitely Sitri’s son. He looked just like her. Memories of that night, of the boy’s birth and the death of her Sitri ran through her mind like a flash flood. What a peculiar series of events this day was unfolding upon her. Her intense gaze upon the group, mainly the boy, persisted as they traveled through the monastery. At one point he stared back at her, but her gaze did not waver.

“I wonder, did the flow of time bring you here?”

====

Byleth and Jeralt entered the audience chamber alone, waiting for the archbishop. Alois and the other Knights were giving their debriefing to the archbishop, who would return to speak with the two of them shortly. Byleth found the whole monastery overwhelming. He had been to a few interesting places and cities, but no building remotely this big in size. Jeralt seemed familiar about the place and wasn’t intimidated at all, but there was something off about him. Being here, seeing the knights again and waiting for the archbishop made the man quite stressed, although he tried to hide it.

“It’s been years since I’ve last set eyes on this place. To have to see her now after all this time…” Byleth cocked an eyebrow at his father and Jeralt stared back, trying to read his son’s face when he didn’t want to use words.

“The archbishop…Lady Rhea,” Jeralt paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “You know how a lot of people worship Saint Seiros and follow her teachings? Well, the leader of that ridiculously large religious organization is none other than the archbishop Lady Rhea, who you are about to meet.”

Byleth remained silent at the news, not caring about this Saint Seiros or her followers in the slightest. None of it really mattered to him.

Soon, the doors to the Audience Chamber were opened and two individuals stepped inside. One of them was the woman in white who he saw staring at him earlier, presumably the archbishop. The second was a green haired man donned in a crisp dark blue outfit. The man was the first one to speak.

“Thank you for your patience, Jeralt.” His voice was quite calm and rather serious. “My name is Seteth. I am an advisor to the archbishop.”

“Right. Hello.” Jeralt said, keeping straight to the point. Byleth noticed how his father’s nervousness made him slightly more awkward than normal.

“It has been quite some time, Jeralt.” The archbishop spoke, her hands interlocked across her stomach. Byleth didn’t really understand why, but assumed it was some kind of formal posturing. “I wonder…was it the will of the goddess that we have another chance meeting like this?”

“I’m afraid I cannot speak of the nature of the will of the goddess,” Jeralt forced himself to speak semi-professionally, struggling to look at Rhea directly. “Forgive my silence all these years, and for the nature of my disappearance many years ago. Much happened at that time and much has happened since we last spoke.”

“So I see,” She stated, her eyes shifting from Jeralt to Byleth. “The miracle of fatherhood has blessed you. That is your child, is it not?”

The unnerving feeling Byleth felt earlier began to return.

“Yes…born many years after I left this place. I wish I could introduce you to the mother of my child, but I’m afraid we lost her to illness.”

Byleth remained silent as he listened to their conversation. He didn’t understand why Jeralt brought up the details of Byleth’s mother now of all times, not when Jeralt rarely ever spoke of her at all, even to Byleth. Byleth couldn’t help but feel like there was something he was missing, something that both his father and the archbishop were specifically tiptoeing around. Byleth quickly glanced at the archbishop’s advisor, who had yet to say much since they got there. His expression was more composed and stoic, but Byleth could see that even he was listening intently to their conversation. Jeralt did not seem to recognize the man, so Byleth could only assume that the advisor joined the monastery some time later.

“…I see. My condolences.” Lady Rhea said after a great moment of silence. Her face was calm and uncompromised, but her voice was distant, as if she wasn’t sorry for Jeralt’s late wife at all. She turned to Byleth and spoke again. “As for you, I heard of your valiant efforts from Alois. What is your name?”

Between the tension in the air and the debilitating stare from the archbishop, Byleth suddenly found himself frozen and silent, crippled by an invisible force. Something wasn’t right, and his desire at the moment was to simply run out of that room and leave this place; but he couldn’t move his legs. He just stood there awkwardly, avoiding and shrinking from the gaze from either of the other three in the room.

“It seems while valiant, his manners could use some serious refinement.” The advisor commented, crossing his arms across his chest. He did not look pleased. Byleth continued to purposefully avoid his gaze which only irritated the green haired man further.

“His name is Byleth,” Jeralt interjected, saving the day. He placed his hand on his son’s head and pushed Byleth forward into a bow. “Please forgive his behavior; it’s been a long day and he’s not much of a talker.”

“Of course,” Rhea paused for a moment, observing Byleth once more as he returned to a standing posture. “From the bottom of my heart, I wish to thank you for saving those students of the Officer’s Academy.”

Byleth just nodded awkwardly in response, still unsure what to make of the situation. Rhea smiled faintly and turned her attention back to Jeralt.

“If I may,” she stated. “Jeralt, could I speak to you privately? Just for a moment.” Seteth’s formerly stoic face broke into an expression of concern and worry, but he said nothing. Jeralt stood for a moment in silence before he let out a heavy sigh.

“Of course, Rhea.” The archbishop just smiled as she led Byleth’s father into one of the side rooms of the Audience Chamber; leaving Byleth alone with Seteth the advisor. The two men crossed glances at one another, only to remember the previous conversation and shoot intense glares at one another, eagerly waiting for the other member of their company to return.

====

Stepping into the room, Jeralt recognized his surroundings immediately; Rhea’s office. Closing the door behind him, he looked around carefully. Not much had changed, a few new furniture pieces, maybe a new painting or two, but the framework of the room remained the same. Rhea had her back turned to Jeralt as she stood to gaze out the window behind her desk. Jeralt remembered it had a great view of some scenery behind the monastery, but nothing of value beyond that.

Jeralt stood by one of the chairs in front of the archbishop’s desk. Her desk had a small stack of documents on top, two small flower vases full of white lilies sat on each end, and in the middle towards Jeralt was a basket of confections. Jeralt eyed the basket of confections as the two sat in awkward silence. Any moment now, Jeralt knew it was coming.

“Really, Jeralt? Did you honestly believe you could fool me into believing that boy out there is the child of any woman but her? Do I truly look like that much of a fool?” Rhea had her arms crossed, and her composure began to rapidly slip. Her voice was strained, with a little bit of anger, but mostly pain.

“Yeah, he really does look like her, doesn’t he?” Jeralt said, as he broke into a sad smile he could not help.

“The color of the hair and eyes are not the same, but everything else.” Rhea murmured, casting her eyes away from Jeralt for a moment as she lost herself in thought. “Oh, my sweet Sitri.”

Sitri. Jeralt’s first and only wife and the mother of his child, Byleth. She was a nun at the Garreg Mach Monastery where the two met and fell in love. Rhea was their connection to one another, as she was Jeralt’s boss at the time and was the alleged sister of Sitri, although Jeralt found that Rhea acted as a mother to her more than anything.

He and Sitri wanted to start a family together. The news of her conception and the duration of her pregnancy brought great joy to the two of them and their friends. But the night of the child’s birth, Sitri died; leaving Jeralt alone with the baby. It was a bad time for Jeralt and he had many bad memories before and after the tragedy.

“So tell me Jeralt,” Rhea asked, sitting down in her chair. “Why are you here? After all this time…twenty years, Jeralt. Twenty years you and that baby have been gone, and not a single word all that time.”

“Alois found me and demanded that I come back.” Jeralt replied simply, curt with a hint of aggressive bite.

“You could have said no. I had not pursued you all these years; there was no reason you had to come even if Alois came back with the news of your presence. What is the truth?” Rhea shook her head as Jeralt let out a heavy sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck, contemplating his answer. In truth, he wasn’t completely sure. But there was a reason.

“First, I’m gonna need a drink for this. Where do you keep your bottle and glasses?” Jeralt said as he stood up and looked around the room. Seeing an array of cups and wine glasses in a glass cabinet, he opened it and grabbed two, on the prowl for the booze.

“It is against monastery rules to have alcohol on the premises.” Rhea said, not leaving her chair. Jeralt shot her a look of disbelief and cracked a smile.

“Oh Rhea, Rhea, Rhea. Come now, I know you better.” He said, placing the glasses on the desk and turning towards the left side of the room, unceremoniously shoving his hand into a spare cabinet and feeling around. “I know you like to keep a hidden stash and if I remember right…”

“Jeralt…” Rhea murmured, her voice increasing in agitation.

“…here. There we are.” Jeralt said, pulling out a bottle of wine from a secret compartment in the cabinet. Rhea just let out a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose as the man walked back to her desk.

“Jeralt, you do remember that stealing is a sin, yes? The Goddess frowns upon such things.”

“It’s not stealing if we’re sharing.” Jeralt replied, as he poured red liquid from the bottle in both glasses. He passed Rhea a glass and took one for himself. Rhea could not help herself from smiling, despite her aggravation. The man had not changed a bit.

“Before I answer your question,” Jeralt said, leaning back in his chair and propping up his own feet on the edge of her desk. Rhea shot a glare at him in exchange but he did not move them. “I want you to answer me this; what happened that night. Not your lame cover up story you told everyone; I want the truth. It’s been twenty years, Rhea, I deserve that much.”

The twentieth of Horsebow Moon; the night of Byleth’s birth and the night of Sitri’s death. Jeralt was away on a mission for the Church and whatever happened that night, he was not there for it and still refused to believe the story he was told. Jeralt knew that Rhea was hiding something from him and fled with the child some time later, faking the baby’s death and he himself disappearing one day. Over the years, Jeralt kept a low profile and worked as a mercenary. Staying on the move to avoid running into the Church, and ultimately Rhea. But now…here they were.

Rhea sat for some time, holding her glass of wine up to the window as she contemplated, admiring the wine’s red luminescence. She knew the question was coming the moment she realized Jeralt had returned. But as far as what to say, well that was a different matter entirely. This was not the same situation twenty years ago; where Jeralt was a grief-stricken widower still coping with the sudden loss of his wife.

“That night, Sitri gave birth to a stillborn.” Rhea said, gazing away from the glass and right at Jeralt as she spoke. His face remained motionless at first, as if he did not hear what she had said. “Your son was a stillborn, Jeralt.

“The labor went down badly.” Rhea continued, her expression beginning to sour as she recanted the memories. “Sitri was dying. The odds of saving her in the state she was in were impossibly low, but I was willing to do everything I could to save her except…”

Rhea paused for a moment, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath. “She wanted me to save the baby, Jeralt. She wanted to trade her chance at surviving and save the child instead. She begged me, Jeralt. In exchange for Sitri’s life, I saved your son; I saved Byleth.”

Jeralt sat in silence for a moment as he began to process the information. Rhea was serious. She wasn’t bullshitting this time; this was her answer. Jeralt struggled to take it as truth, but he knew she wasn’t jesting. Jeralt took a big gulp of wine.

“I should’ve been there,” he whispered, still in a state of disbelief. “I should’ve been there and that should have been my call.”

“I would not have listened to you,” Rhea replied firmly. “It was her decision as the mother; even if you were there I would have gone with her decision.”

“I should have…I should have been able to say goodbye.” Jeralt said, his voice quivering as he spoke. It could have been taken as anger, but Rhea knew well that it was sadness. “To be able to be with her during her final moments; I didn't even get to have that.”

“I know, and I am truly sorry for that, Jeralt.” Rhea said. “I wish you were there, I wish you could have been with her during her final hours and I wish your time with her wasn’t cut so short. She loved you very much, Jeralt, more than you could ever even know.”

“How did you do it?” Jeralt asked, his voice heavy and strained. “How did you trade her life for his? Was it magic? What kind of spell did you cast?”

“I cannot tell you,” Rhea rebuffed solemnly as she frowned; she had been dreading the question.

“Bullshit, Rhea!” Jeralt fumed, slamming his fist on the desk. The wine bottle shivered on the desk, an unwilling bystander to the conflict.. “You are telling me all of this now, but you’re still holding out on me? Why? Has all I’ve done for you over my years of service not mean anything? Why the hell did you not tell me the truth that night? Why did you give me that half-assed answer? I deserved the truth, Rhea! ...I still do.”

“There are some things I cannot tell you, Jeralt.” Rhea calmly replied, unfazed by Jeralt’s outburst. “It is not that I do not trust you, but I cannot tell you. At least not right now.

“As far as that night goes, I did not tell you the truth, because I did not want to risk you rejecting the child if you found out that his survival cost your wife’s life. You had just lost your wife and were struggling to bond with the newborn; I did not think you could handle the truth at the time. I was planning to tell you.” Rhea’s expression was stoic and composed, but her voice sounded pained.

“The reason I was having a hard time bonding with him, was because there was something wrong with him.” Jeralt whispered, his voice beginning to strain. “As a baby, he never cried, Rhea. Not even once. Doctor even said he had no heartbeat. I listened for it myself; nothing. When he got older, he never laughed; he still doesn’t. He doesn’t show emotions; if I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t think he even has emotions. What did you do to that child, Rhea?”

“Jeralt, listen to me.” Rhea stood from her chair and walked around her desk, sitting in the chair directly across from Jeralt. “I cannot disclose the nature of what I used to save him, but while there are some slight abnormalities biologically; the boy is otherwise alive and healthy. He’s rude and lacks some manners, but otherwise a perfectly normal young man; and he is your son.”

Jeralt rubbed his forehead, recalling past events. “You know, as a kid he used to throw rocks at and beat up the other kids? I had to drag him through the whole village and make him apologize to all their families. When he wasn’t acting out, he’d sleep all the damn time. When there wasn’t a job to do, I had to literally drag his ass out of bed just to get him up and moving; otherwise he’d sleep for days. Days, Rhea.

“But even then, it never bode well. He’d always wake up forcefully thanks to bizarre dreams and violent nightmares. Some of the stuff he spoke about in his dreams, by the Goddess…wars, torture, people getting their heads bashed in, dismemberment; you name the war crime, and odds are that he had seen it at some point. As a child, no less! All these awful nightmares he’d get as a child, having never seen any war or violence in his whole life; nothing remotely that horrific as those awful dreams. He’d wake up screaming sometimes, scaring me half to death.” Jeralt poured more wine in his glass and began to drink, remembering those sleepless nights as he drowned them out with alcohol.

There was a long moment of silence between the two of them. Jeralt avoided Rhea’s gaze, despite her close observation. Jeralt wasn’t quite sure what it was for, but he didn’t press her about it.

“Jeralt, if I may ask, how is your relationship with your son?” Rhea questioned, breaking the silence. Jeralt stared at her for a moment, trying to discern some meaning from her stoic expression and closed his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I won’t lie, Rhea, it ain’t good.” He confessed, slightly buzzed. “When it comes to the job, he follows orders well but outside of that, he fights me on every turn. I think he even hates me sometimes.”

“He does not hate you,” Rhea assured him, her voice filled with compassion.

“After he was born, I left him in the hands of some caretakers at a village. Moving around as a mercenary from job to job wasn’t good for raising a kid; so I decided I would just come visit him in between jobs instead. I remember how he used to beg for me to stay or take him with me. Every single time he would do it, and it would break my heart.

“When he turned fourteen, I decided it’d be a good time to start bringing him with me, so he can learn the trade and whatnot. He was so angry at me for taking him away from that village; he told me ‘I hate you.’ No matter what I did, he would be upset at me for it; even now. You know he hasn’t even called me ‘dad’ in years? He calls me by my name, like a damn stranger.” Jeralt cringed at the harsh truth, his eyes beginning to water just ever so slightly. Where had he gone wrong?

“Children can be quite fickle, this is true,” Rhea replied empathetically. Jeralt simply nodded his head in agreement, a sad acceptance of the fact.

“Has he ever asked about his mother?” She asked, changing the topic.

“He used to, quite a bit when he was younger. Now, not as much.” Jeralt paused for a moment, recalling the past once more. “He used to have dreams about a woman. Guess that could be related.”

“Can I tell you my thoughts, Jeralt?” She asked, patient to a fault.

“I can’t stop you,” He retorted, clearly lacking in the same patience.

“These problems you listed, they do not seem to be that strange or unusual in the slightest.” She said in a straightforward manner.

“You were a single father trying to raise a son and were constantly in and out of his life at a young age. When you were gone, he was most likely ridden with great anxiety of your safety and whether or not you’d return, not to mention the pain a child has to experience each and every time you leave. It is not hard to imagine he harbors some anger or resentment for you not being there when he wanted you to be.

“You took him from his home at a young age and the two of you spent a good chunk of his youth on the road in a dangerous profession. You are the only serious social connection he has and he is not exactly happy with you. With half of his upbringing being centered on violence in some manner, it is not surprising that he has become desensitized to such things and comes across as having a hardened heart. That does not mean he doesn’t feel, just that it probably doesn’t affect him. Considering all of these aspects, plus the excessive amount of sleeping, it is most likely—”

“By the Goddess, Rhea please do not tell me that all of this is because you think my son is depressed.” Jeralt cut her off, anger rising within him quickly. Jeralt felt confident that he would’ve noticed something as serious as that in his son.

“I am just saying--” Rhea continued, cutting Jeralt off before he could say something. “Listen, I do not blame you, Jeralt. Your work as a mercenary was necessary to bring food on the table and to support you and your son. Nor do I believe Byleth blames you either, not really. Nor does he hate you, either. Raising a child is not an easy task, especially without a partner to assist you. But you cannot deny the reality that the life you two have lived these past twenty one years has not been easy.

“Jeralt, that day you ran off with the child; it broke my heart.” Rhea confessed, her eyes looked away for a moment but shifted back to Jeralt. “I loved Sitri. I never would have done anything to hurt her or the child you and she had. I have not forgotten that you saved my life, Jeralt. You were one of my best knights, someone I could call a friend, and I would not have done anything to ever jeopardize that.”

“And yet, you still can’t trust me enough to tell me the whole truth.” Jeralt bitterly replied, getting his moment to speak.

“I am sorry that I cannot be completely honest with you Jeralt, truly, I am.” Rhea replied. “However, I would like to get to that point, one day. Listen, I have a proposition for you…”

“Rhea…” Jeralt groaned. He knew this was coming. He knew it the moment he walked in the damn monastery this was coming, but he couldn’t help but try and argue.

“Listen to me, Jeralt. Join the Knights of Seiros again. The incident with the fire and faking the child’s death has already been forgiven and forgotten. Most of the staff here were not at the monastery twenty one years ago. They will not suspect anything or hold resentment. If they ask, just give them an excuse of your choice. Alois is a good man and a good knight, but he is not my Blade Breaker.”

“What about Byleth? You want him to be a knight as well?” Jeralt asked. Byleth did well as a mercenary, but Jeralt struggled to imagine him as a knight.

“No,” Rhea said. “I actually have something else in mind for Byleth.

“After the embarrassment that happened outside Remire Village with our students with those bandits, the Officer’s Academy now has a new teaching spot open, one that fits your son’s experiences very well. A mercenary’s perspective could be greatly appreciated by the students, especially since many may find themselves in those sorts of careers” She took another sip of her wine and watched Jeralt, waiting for his response.

“Rhea, that boy has never taught a day in his life. Hell, he hates talking. I think he’d rather jump out of a tower before he’d teach a class.” Memories of Jeralt literally dragging Byleth to go play with the other kids when his son was younger sprung to Jeralt’s mind. He remembered the boy dragging his heels in the dirt and desperately trying to claw his way from his father’s grasp as Jeralt tried to get him to go. It took far too long for Byleth to get used to the other kids, but eventually he did manage to get comfortable with them. But the path on the way to that goal was less than pretty.

“I believe he will catch on, eventually at least.” Rhea assured him, but Jeralt couldn’t believe her after having supposedly just met with Byleth. “Truth be told Jeralt, I just need him to show the students how to hold a sword without cutting themselves and most importantly; be able to stay and defend the students in the face of danger. Byleth has already shown that he’s more than able to do that.”

“I just find it awfully convenient that your plan has the two of us separated; I leave to do your dirty work while my son stays behind in your little circle.” Jeralt said pointedly. He began to restrain himself, trying not to push Rhea too far. His temper was bad, but he knew from experience hers was far more wrathful.

“Jeralt, you will be doing the work for the Church of Seiros, dirty or not.” Rhea glared at him, her voice harsh. She was always sensitive when it came to her congregation and questioning it. “You will have your own room and your own office here at the monastery, and you can be present as much as you would like to be. As long as you get your tasks done by a certain time and in a professional manner, I do not care how long or how short it takes; just like the old days.

“Despite what you may think, Jeralt, I really do think some time in a permanent residence and being around other people, particularly ones closer in his age group, would do Byleth a lot of good. He needs more independence from you. In fact, I think you two having some time apart might actually help your relationship. If at any point you feel like this arrangement between us has been compromised, or that Byleth is unsafe or in danger, whether from me or anyone else; you two are free to leave.”

“You expect me to believe that you’d really let us go, Rhea. After all this time?” Jeralt prodded unabashedly.

“Jeralt, how do you think you’ve been able to avoid the Church for so long? It is only because I have not sought for you or Byleth all this time. I could have, and probably should have, considering your emotional state at the time; but I did not. I knew the child was still alive, and while I was hurt that you faked his death and ran off; I did not stop you. Do you know why? It is because at the end of the day; you are his father and he is your child. You had every right to leave and take him wherever you pleased. I am simply pleased the two of you are here now.

“I am not forcing you to do this, Jeralt,” Rhea continued. “This is a request, one you can reject and the two of you are free to leave. But I would like for you both to stay. Come back, Jeralt, please.”

Jeralt could not help but feel himself being swayed by Rhea’s words. Somewhere inside him, he wanted her words to be true, for her feelings to be true; for all of his years working with her not to have been all a lie. But he couldn’t fully convince himself of it, and yet…the offer wasn’t bad.

There was logic to what Rhea said. She could have easily found him and Byleth if she had wanted to. She had the connections, and Jeralt himself got pretty sloppy over the years; started using his old name again and bringing Byleth along on his jobs. If they had not been found by Alois, someone else would’ve found them sooner or later. Or word would’ve gotten back to Rhea somehow.

“I still have that job in Faerghus…and there is the matter of the men in my mercenary company,” Jeralt murmured, his mind trying to process the whole concept.

“Go finish your job in Faerghus, and you can start work in the monastery when you come back.” Rhea answered. “As far as your men are considered, they are free to work via contracts at the monastery as well, you just need to speak to Seteth and fill out some paperwork.“

“I accept, but I have one condition to your offer,” Jeralt stated, his eyes locking right into Rhea’s.

“I am listening,” she replied calmly, although there was some apprehension in her voice.

“I will agree to your terms and work for you as a knight again, but come one year’s time; I want the truth. All of it. I know a lot about you, Rhea; more so than most people. You have a ton of secrets. I’m not asking for all of them; I just want to know the full truth of that one day. One year from today and if you still can’t open up to me about it; Byleth and I are gone. When it comes to family, especially my wife, I won’t settle for anything less than the full truth. If you agree to my condition, then I will accept your offer.”

“I will accept your condition, Jeralt.” Rhea replied calmly. “As I said before, you and Byleth are free to leave whenever you want.”

“I am well aware,” Jeralt said, shifting a little in his seat. “I am just making it clear on the condition of whether we stay or not for the long term. I don’t trust you, Rhea. I would like to, at least on some level, but you have to meet me half-way. I’ve never done you wrong, or else you wouldn’t be asking me to come back. So please work to get to that point where you can trust me with the full truth. I’ll do whatever I gotta do; you just fulfill your end.”

“I will do my best. I cannot say that one year will be enough time, but--”

“It’s gonna have to be enough,” Jeralt retorted, interrupting the archbishop.

“I will try my best.” Rhea said calmly. She paused for a moment and then continued to speak. “Regardless, I want to thank you, Jeralt, for coming back, even if the length of the duration is unknown, I am happy to have you back with us. I will inform Seteth of the good news and he will oversee that Byleth gets oriented properly and you will have your necessities ready by the time you come back from Faerghus.”

Jeralt nodded solemnly, still not able to shake the feeling that this was a bad idea. But, the truth was that things with Byleth weren’t getting any better and his son needed to learn how to be social and independent. Jeralt wasn’t eager about leaving Byleth alone with Rhea, but it was just a matter of time, he guessed.

He got up from his chair and began to walk to the door to the audience chamber. He began to mentally prepare himself at breaking “the good news” to Byleth, who he knew was going to have a fit; or at least, his version of a fit. Jeralt did not look forward to it.

“Oh, Jeralt,” Rhea spoke up. Jeralt stopped in the middle of his tracks and turned around, giving her a sidelong glance. “You never did tell me your reason why you came back after all these years? Surely it was not because of Alois, because while maybe not easy, you could’ve out run the Knights of Seiros eventually and get back into hiding. What really made you come back?”

“You remember those dreams of Byleth I mentioned? How, in one of those dreams he saw a woman?” Jeralt replied. Rhea nodded her head in return. “Well, whenever he could remember what she looked like, he always described her as a woman with long green hair. I’ve met many women in my life, but I only know one who remotely fits that description.”

As he opened the door to the Audience Chamber to leave, Jeralt failed to see the sparkle that shone in Rhea’s eyes as she processed his words. She could not help but smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to Dtale for beta reading this chapter. <3


	3. Old Faces, New Faces

Verdant Wind

Great Tree Moon

Chapter 3: Old Faces, New Faces

====

_4/17, Year 1180_

_“You sure it is such a good idea for us to be here with no back up?”_

_Walking down a long road, a small group of armed individuals followed a merchant’s caravan. In the front, their teacher led the group while talking with the merchants. Behind the moving cart, three students from the Officer’s Academy walked in pace with it. This was the students’ first mission, and they were tasked with escorting a merchant’s caravan safely, and if need be; they were to protect it from bandits. As the adults ahead of them carried on their conversation, the youths behind them started their own._

_“Claude, the whole purpose for this exercise is for us to handle the mission with minimal assistance.” Dimitri said, turning to the other boy as he spoke to him. With blonde hair and blue eyes, Dimitri was the tallest of the three and was the leader of the Blue Lions house at the Officer’s Academy. As per tradition, he wore a blue cape to symbolize his status as the leader of his house, the blue being their signature color, naturally._

_“I did not realize the heir to the Leicester Alliance was such a coward,” Edelgard observed. She was the only female student among the three. She had snow white hair, which was an unusual color for her age, and purple eyes. Her cape was red, as she was leader of the Black Eagles house at the Academy, whose signature color was red, strangely enough._

_“Well, I just don’t think it is a good idea for the three heirs to the nations of Fodlan to be grouped together with no guards.” Claude responded, frowning at the accusation of cowardice. Unlike the other two, this boy had brown skin, and was one of the few individuals with such a dark skin tone at the Academy. With brown hair and green eyes, he was the leader of the Golden Deer house, and donned the yellow cape of the Leicester Alliance._

_“It is a tradition of the Officer’s Acade--”_

_“Tradition or not, we are sitting ducks out here,” Claude said negatively. “If captured, I’m sure we even could make some nice golden geese for bandits.”_

_The other’s faces suddenly soured at the reminder of the one of the many burdens of nobility was the sizable bounty on their head. It was not something either of them liked to think about, but it was an ugly reality of their world._

_“It will be fine, Claude.” Dimitri assured him, patting him on the shoulder. “We have our teacher here with us. As long as we stick together, it will work out.”_

_“Hm…if you say so, Dimitri.” Claude replied, not sounding confident in his peer at all. The brown skinned boy stretched out his arms upwards and reclined them behind his head as he walked._

_“Besides Claude,” Edelgard said, altering the topic of the conversation ever so slightly. “I would be far more concerned about your roommate than any bandit.”_

_She was referring to one Lorenz Gloucester, son of a noble to the Leicester Alliance and who was supposed to have been the original leader of the Golden Deer house; that is until Claude enrolled. Due to the last minute nature of Claude’s arrival, both boys were assigned to room together; despite that house leaders were not supposed to have roommates._

_“Ah, so word about that has gotten around even to the Empire? Interesting.” Claude mused, although he tried to hide it, it was obvious that he was rather unnerved by the fact._

_“Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?” Dimitri interjected, confused at the topic at hand. “Are you referring to Lorenz? Why? He is our classmate.”_

_“Are you truly so naïve to think that just because he is our classmate that he wouldn’t try to unsavory means to accomplish his own goals?” Edelgard rebuked. “You of all people should know that there are snakes in the grass ready to strike at you the moment you look away. I worry for the Kingdom of Faerghus if their future crowned prince is truly so gullible.”_

_“Why must you be so condescending?” Dimitri asked sharply. “Of course I know there are wicked, traitorous dastards in this world; and I will personally see that they are dutifully punished for their actions. But throwing around baseless accusations off of rumors and gossip does nobody any good. It merely alienates potential allies, at the very least._

_“Though I must admit, I do not know Lorenz well,” Dimitri continued. “But as far as I can tell, he has done nothing to warrant such an accusation. Yes, Claude took his spot as house leader, but that is not something to kill a person over. Must you be so cold and heartless?”_

_“H-Heartless?!” Edelgard stammered, slightly hurt at the accusation. “I am not heartless. The reason I brought it up is because--”_

_“Lorenz’s father had my uncle killed.” Claude stated, interrupting the girl. Both Edelgard and Dimitri were shocked and stood silently at the sudden abrupt statement. Edelgard was not surprised by the details, but did not expect her peer to admit information so bluntly and without restraint. Claude was normally far more tactful, as far as she had seen from him. There was a brief moment of awkward silence between the three of them, as the other two took in this information. _

_“Are you certain of this, Claude?” Dimitri inquired, breaking the long awkward silence. “I had heard that your uncle had died, but I figured the Alliance would not let a murder go unrectified, much less by one allegedly orchestrated by their own.”_

_“Well, since I wasn’t there myself, I cannot be certain of it.” Claude admitted, not looking at either of the other two house leaders, and instead focused on the trail ahead of them. _

_“But I do know that while a lot of people died that day, my uncle was the main target. My grandfather is pretty adamant that it was Duke Gloucester that was responsible too, as he was the one who benefited the most from the tragedy. Of course, there is no physical evidence to support this claim, just circumstantial; which is why Duke Gloucester’s head remains on his shoulders.”_

_“Claude, if you believe things are that hostile between your family and the Gloucesters, you should request a room change.” Edelgard replied, looking at the brown skinned boy’s back as she spoke. In truth, Edelgard knew that the matter would sort itself out. Claude would soon never have to worry about his rooming problem, or any other problems, ever again by the end of the day. But she kept up the pretense._

_“Ah, but would that not be rather cowardly of me, your Highness?” Claude retorted, turning to look at the girl. Edelgard frowned in response. “Relax, I’m just kidding. Yeah, I am not worried about it too much._

_“The way I see it,” Claude continued. “Duke Gloucester is already under suspicion of my uncle’s death. There were numerous investigations of his household and his territory. If anything happened to me while I was roomed with his son, it would do more harm to him and their family than good._

_“Not to mention, Lorenz is kind of a wimp. I don’t see him doing much to me other than make me want to kill myself with all his nagging.” Claude concluded, smiling to himself. “Besides, isn’t there that saying ‘keep your friends close; enemies closer?’”_

_Despite the upbeat conclusion Claude had feigned, the other two did not fail to miss the unease in his voice. Even though he was not particularly fond of Claude, Dimitri could not help himself feel sorry for the other boy. Unwanted memories of that horrific, fateful day began to flow through him. While their circumstances were different, Dimitri understood that loss. He wanted to say something, but kept to himself. He got the impression that Claude did not want to pursue the topic further._

_“Hey now,” Claude said, trying to break the awkward silence that settled between the three of them once more. “While I appreciate the concern for lil’ ol’ me; don’t let my circumstances gloom the air. You guys should go back to your flirtatious bickering. It’s adorable.”_

_“Claude, that is entirely inappropriate and completely false,” Edelgard said, glaring at her classmate. The boy could be so juvenile._

_“What? It’s true, You guys are like this close to angrily making out. It’s kind of fun to watch.” Claude replied, lips cracking into a small smile before he began making crude ‘kissing’ gestures with his hands as if they were puppets. Neither Dimitri nor Edelgard looked impressed by his performance._

_“Claude, please.” Dimitri begged. He was visibly uncomfortable, if not embarrassed at the suggestion. Casting his gaze downwards, the house leader of the Blue Lions could not bring himself to look at either Edelgard or Claude in the eye._

_“I can just see it now; the emperor of the Adrestian Empire and the king of Faerghus, caught in a saucy, forbidden love affair. I wonder what kind of operas they’d make out of that. Or even better, the books people would write--”_

_“Enough, Claude!” Dimitri and Edelgard shouted in unison. Claude just laughed at the two of them and how predictable they were. It was so very easy to rile them up and get such delightful reactions._

_“Oh man, you guys are so easy to tease.” He said, chuckling to himself. Suddenly, Claude extended both of his arms and wrapped his arm around both of their shoulders, bringing the three of them in for an awkward huddle._

_“You know what, I think this is gonna be a great year.” He stated, shifting glances between the other two. “The three of us are gonna be great friends, I can just tell already.”_

_“It will most certainly be interesting,” Dimitri admitted, looking mildly nervous at the sudden physical contact Claude had engaged with them._

_Edelgard smiled softly, and could not help herself feeling a growing sense of comradery between the three of them. While she did not trust either of them, or particularly believe they were fit for their positions; there was something inside her that wanted to believe those things. She wanted to believe that there was a chance she could work with the other two, and that the three of them could in fact shape and change Fodlan for the better._

_A sudden feeling of regret surged through her. The ramifications of what she had done and was about to let happen suddenly dawned on her. In the height of such a feeling, Edelgard acted on an impulse. _

_“Wait!” Edelgard exclaimed, causing the other two to stop suddenly and turn their attention towards her. The boys were surprised, but not nearly as surprised as Edelgard was of herself. What was she doing?_

_“We should go back. This trail is less guarded by patrol knights and Claude is right; we are likely to attract unnecessary, extra attention due to our status. We should go back and go on the other trail. It will be safer.”_

_“But that trail is longer and is hardly any much safer compared to this one. What is wrong? It is not like you to change your mind all of a sudden.” Dimitri observed, looking at the girl with slight concern._

_“It is just…” Edelgard murmured, conflicted on what to do or say. _

_She knew that in the perspective of things; this was the path of least bloodshed. Sacrificing two lives instead of thousands for the prosperity of all was always going to be the most ethical choice. She knew this, she planned this, and the task was already halfway to completion; so why now was her heart wavering?_

_“Ah, come on Edelgard.” Claude interjected, turning to the girl’s direction. “Let’s just go ahead and get this over with; we’ve gone this far, it’s not like we can turn back now. Besides, I want to get back to the Academy by dinner time. They’re serving pickled rabbit skewers in the dining hall tonight.”_

_“That is disgusting,” Dimitri replied, his face turning sour in disgust._

_“Hey, I don’t want to hear anything from you, cheese boy.” Claude retorted, lightly poking at the other boy’s chest._

_“What? Cheese is good.” Dimitri protested, sulking at Claude’s criticism._

_“Yeah, cheese is good, but you shouldn’t put it in everything.” Claude explained. Claude had seen all kinds of dishes Dimitri ate at the dining hall, and no matter how nasty the combo was; if it had cheese in it, the boy would eat it. In some cases, he would even say those nasty concoctions were “good.”_

_“It really isn’t that big of a deal,” Dimitri sighed._

_“It’s called taste and culinary refinement, Dimitri. Both of which you seem to lack.” Claude quipped, pointing his finger towards the other boy. Dimitri just rolled his eyes in response._

_As Edelgard listened to the boys argue and bicker amongst themselves, she could not help but feel a sense of dread and remorse. But like all feelings, it too would pass. If it didn’t, well that would be her burden to bear. For Fodlan’s future, she would bear it. She had already made the choice to walk this path long ago. As she could not turn back the hands of time, she could not change her mind even if she wanted to. The decision was made and fates were sealed._

_Walking along the bloody path, all she could do was see it through until the end. _

====

4/18, Year 1180

Of the three house leaders, it was Edelgard who got to her house’s homeroom first. She could see her retainer, Hubert, pacing just outside their homeroom door. He flashed a look of surprise at her appearance, but quickly followed by an expression of relief.

“Lady Edelgard, you have returned,” he stated, his words attracting the attention of the other Black Eagle students. “I have heard that your mission with our professor and the other house leaders…did not go well. Forgive me for my inability to assist you in such dire times. I should have been there to aid you.”

“Have no fear, Hubert, all is well,” Edelgard said, giving him a slight nod of her head. Although he did not give the details, she knew what he meant. “In fact, it might even be good news.”

Hubert flashed another look of surprise, to which Edelgard couldn’t help but smile. Soon, the other Black Eagle students began to approach.

“Edelgard, you have the returning!” Petra shouted, running up quickly to Edelgard and Hubert, nearly knocking the young heiress over. Hubert looked dangerously irritated at the blunder, but kept his mouth shut.

“Eddie, you’re safe!” A melodic voice, Dorothea, shouted, she grabbed Edelgard’s hands affectionately. “We were so worried about you. It sounded so scary, to get attacked by bandits. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I am fine, Dorothea. Thank you for the concern, however.” Edelgard reassured her as a tall, pale green haired boy drifted towards her, as if in a daze.

“Ah, you’re alive. How nice. I’ll be going back to sleep now.” The boy, Linhardt mumbled, stifling a yawn as he headed back to his seat. A smaller light blue haired boy, Caspar, soon took up his place, trying to block the narcoleptic before giving up as Linhart simply used his size to push the boy aside.

“Linhardt, get back here!” he exclaimed, a heavy sigh escaped his lips. “Sorry about that Edelgard, but I’m glad you’re back safe! Really wish I was there. I can’t believe the professor abandoned you guys there to handle the bandits on your own. Really wish I could’ve been there to give him and those bandits a piece of justice!”

“I-I’m glad you’re okay, Edelgard. I’m happy you’re back,” A small mess of purple hair, poked out of the crowd; an unusual move for the girl, Bernadetta, as she generally kept herself away from most people.

“Thank you, Bernadetta. I’m happy to be back as well.” Edelgard smiled. Bernadetta smiled faintly in return and slinked back to seat, away from the group.

“Unlike our house leader, if I were there, I could handle all those bandits myself!” Ferdinand proclaimed, brushing his ginger hair behind his ears and gesturing dramatically. Edelgard let out a heavy sigh. She was not surprised by this whatsoever, but she had hoped for otherwise.

“You damn imbecile, watch your tongue.” Hubert hissed. Ferdinand opened his mouth to retort something back in response, but Edelgard stopped him.

“That’s enough. Ferdinand, I hope next time you can come along on the outing missions so we may see such words in action.” She intervened, folding her arms. She had very large doubts that her classmate could even remotely live up to his own words.

“While Dimitri, Claude, and I could admittedly not handle the bandits on our own, we were fortunately saved by a group of mercenaries; very talented ones at that.” Some oohs and aahs erupted from the small huddle of classmates around her.

“Are any of them handsome and single?” Dorothea asked playfully.

“I…do not know.” Edelgard replied; caught off guard by Dorothea’s question. “But perhaps you can find that out yourself, they are here after all. They are speaking with the archbishop at the moment.

“But I do know...That one of those mercenaries is none other than Jeralt the Blade Breaker.” Edelgard teased as more noise erupted from the group.

“The Blade Breaker! Are you sure?!” Caspar exclaimed, excited by the news.

“Yes, and he has a son who is also quite talented. I’m hoping to see if I can hire them both to work for the empire.” The other classmates continued to buzz about the new information amongst each other. Edelgard and Hubert on the other hand, exchanged meaningful looks and confident smirks at this new idea of hers.

====

“Your Highness, you’ve returned!” As Dimitri entered the Blue Lions homeroom, his classmates soon swarmed around him. All but one looked visually relieved to see him.

“Are you alright?” Dedue inquired, his face etched with worry. “Forgive me for not being there to aid you. It is most shameful of me and I will--”

“Relax, Dedue. I am alright and happy to be back with all of you.” Dimitri assured his retainer and smiled softly at the sight of his classmates. He was relieved to see them as well.

“We tried to leave with the Knights to come help with the rescue,” Sylvain said, ruffling his red hair absentmindedly as he spoke. “But they didn’t let us. We were stuck here waiting for you the entire time and couldn’t do anything.”

“So what happened, boar? Did someone grab you by the tusks?” Felix sneered, gold eyes glaring at the prince with malice.

“Felix, that’s enough!” Ingrid yelled, scolding her friend. “I can’t believe you could say such things to Prince Dimitri after--”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Felix.” Mercedes said, interrupting the other girl. “He talks big, but I think out of all of us, he was the one most worried. Why, he could barely sit still--”

“Lies and slander!” Felix hissed, his face starting to red around his cheeks. Mercedes just responded back with a gentle chuckle as her lips stretched into a smug grin.

“Actually, it was bandits.” Dimitri said, hoping to quickly detour the conversation back on course. “We got overwhelmed by them and unfortunately, our professor abandoned us.”

“What?!” Annette cried out. “How could he do that to you guys?!”

“Yes, it was truly quite shameful; I did not see it coming at all.” Dimitri confessed.

“So, who saved you guys? Was it the Knights of Seiros? Oh, I bet it was!” Ashe gushed, his eyes sparkling at the thought of cool, gallant knights coming to save the day.

“Actually,” Dimitri spoke. “It was a band of mercenaries; we met up with the Knights after the bandits had been slain. But, I think you’ll be most excited to hear who was amongst them; it was Jeralt Reus Eisner.”

“The Blade Breaker?!” Ingrid exclaimed, mouth agape from shock.

“That’s amazing!” Ashe cried out, barely able to contain his excitement. “Is he still here?! Oh, please say he’s still here! I’ve got to meet him!”

“Do not worry, Ashe. He is here. I believe the archbishop is giving her thanks to him and his associates for saving us. Oh, he has a son as well. I saw his work in action myself and he’s quite formidable himself. If I had even a fraction of his skill…” Dimitri got quiet for a moment as his thoughts began to stray.

“Ah, never mind that.” Dimitri continued, bringing himself back to reality. “But yes, I do believe we should have an opportunity to meet him before he and his company leave.”

“The legendary Blade Breaker you say? Hmph. Hopefully I’ll have a moment to spar with him before he leaves; I wish to test my might against a worthy opponent.” Felix quickly clenched his fist as he began to imagine his duel against the legendary knight.

“So your Highness,” Sylvain spoke, a sly grin emerging on his face. “Were there any hot ladies in this mercenary band? Cause if so--Ow, ow, ow! Ingrid, stop!” Sylvain cried out. Ingrid had grabbed him by the ear, pinching hard.

“Oh Sylvain,” Ingrid sighed. “When will you ever let go of your vulgar, philandering ways?”

Dimitri could not help himself but chuckle at the sight. Having been nearly sent to Death’s door at the hand of bandits just hours ago; being back at the Officer Academy’s and seeing his friends’ antics was a welcomed change of pace. For as much as it could be for him, Dimitri was happy to be “home.”

====

“So, who missed me?” Claude playfully asked, as he stepped inside the homeroom of the Golden Deer house. But instead of his classmates rushing to his side to greet him after harrowingly escaping Death’s clutches; his classmates were busy arguing.

“But Raphael and I were half right,” argued Hilda. “We should get at least a little bit.”

“No way,” Lysithea replied. “Half right is still not full right and thus wrong. Marianne was the only one who got it all right; she should get the earnings, so you guys have to cough it up too.”

Hilda and Raphael were facing Lysithea and Lorenz who stood on the other side of the table. Leonie sat on another table just behind Lorenz and Lysithea and was seemingly listening to the others’ conversation. Marianne sat in the middle looking gloomy as ever. A stash of money sat right in the middle of the table. Ignatz sat by himself at a separate table, engrossed in some sketch.

“Hello, anyone there?” Claude called out; he gave a slight wave at his classmates for their attention. A little warm welcome wasn’t too much to ask for, right?

“Sorry, Claude. Give us a minute.” Hilda called out. “We all made bets on whether or not you’d make it back or not and we’re trying to sort it out.”

“Ouch. I can really feel the love, you guys.” Claude replied, sighing a little. He was not surprised though, not surprised in the least. Nonetheless, he decided it would be an interesting discussion. “Well, who won? Who placed their faith in ol’ Claude?”

“Well, that’s what we’re trying to decide.” Raphael said, the buttons on his shirt straining, as if they could snap off any minute. “You see--”

“Marianne won. Although I wish she didn’t.” Lorenz interrupted the large boy, glaring at Claude accusingly, annoyed and disappointed at the other student’s return.

“Thank you, Marianne. I’m happy to see that someone believes in me and wants me back—wait a minute. Hilda, does this mean you didn’t want me to return? Hilda; my moon and my stars, betraying me like this. Oh, I’m so hurt.” He clutched his heart to emphasize his ‘pain.’

“Sorry Claude,” Hilda replied. “You know I love you and of course I want you around. But I’m a girl who is in it to win it, and while I betted on you living, I didn’t think you’d come back to the Academy. Goddess knows that if my professor left me to bandits, I wouldn’t want to come back. I’d head straight home.”

“Me too!” Raphael cried out. “I’m happy you’re back, but to be honest I wasn’t expecting it. That sounded rough, buddy.”

“Okay, okay. That’s fair. I’ll give you guys a pass for that; but what about you three?” He nodded before motioning to Lysithea, Lorenz, and Leonie.

“I don’t like you. Go die.” Lysithea hissed. Claude was a little surprised at the intensity in her venomous words, but he couldn’t help but find it kind of adorable, in its own way.

“Love you too, Lysithea.” Claude teased, making a heart gesture with both of his hands. Lysithea just growled at him in return, and went off to go read at her own table. “What about you Lorenz?”

“Nothing of value would have been lost upon your death.” Lorenz replied, but Claude was not shocked. The other boy continued speaking. “If anything, the Leicester Alliance would only flourish with you not around to inherit it.”

“Ouch,” Claude said, feigning hurt. “Ice cold there, Lorenz. Not surprised though, coming from you.”

Lorenz didn’t say anything in reply, merely turned up his nose at Claude.

“As for me,” Leonie said. “I thought the whole bet was stupid. Not all of us have the luxury to waste money on gambling. But for the record, I didn’t think you were going to make it back, sorry. But I am glad you are okay.”

“Ye of little faith,” Claude chided, he turned to the opposite side of the room. “What about you Ignatz? Did you give up on me too?”

“Actually,” Ignatz looked up from his sketchbook and looked to Claude. “I didn’t think it was right to make bets on whether or not friends would live or die, so I didn’t participate at all. But I’m glad you’re back and okay.”

The boy was rather meek, and struggled to speak up at times, but Claude thought he was a good guy.

“Thank you, Ignatz. That means a lot to me.” Claude replied, turning to the other students he spoke again. “And yes, folks. I am back; safe and sound, no worse for wear. Although those bandits certainly tried their best, and it doesn’t help that our professor ditched us. Great guy, really.

“Fortunately, we were saved by a band of mercenaries. They were quite efficient and skilled. Lady Luck truly smiled upon me.” He said, flashing a cocky smile. In the corner of his eye, Claude could see Lorenz roll his eyes.

“Mercenaries, huh?” Leonie spoke up, her interest peaked. “None of them happened to be named ‘Jeralt’ were they?”

“Actually, there was.” Claude said. “It was none other than Jeralt the Blade Breaker himself. Today was just full of surprises.”

“That’s Jeralt! My Jeralt!” Leonie exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. “Is he here?! I’ve GOT to see him.”

Suddenly, a lot of things began to make more sense to Claude. Leonie had been talking nonstop about her previous mentor since she arrived at the Officer’s Academy, and for it to be Jeralt the Blade Breaker would certainly explain her enthusiasm.

“He should. I think the whole group went back with the knights to see the archbishop. Oh, he has a son too.” Claude replied. He didn’t think the son was worth that much discussing, but figured he should probably mention it.

The other Golden Deer students stopped listening to him after this, and began to talk amongst themselves about the Blade Breaker and the stories associated with him. Claude watched them move about, feeling both a bit disappointed and bored. His eyes turned to Marianne who had not said anything the moment he got in. Poor girl looked miserable as always.

“So Marianne, what are you gonna do with your winnings?” Claude asked, looking at the blue haired girl. “Gonna buy something cool at the market? A nice accessory or cute little trinket?”

“Um…I don’t know.” She shifted uncomfortably as she murmured, her eyes heavy and marred by exhaustion. Claude knew from Hilda that the poor girl hardly ever slept, or when she did, didn’t sleep well. “I don’t really need anything, honestly.”

“Hm…” Claude mumbled as he thought to himself. “Then how about, in celebration for my miraculous return, we use the money to throw a feast in the Dining Hall?”

“Can we invite the whole Golden Deer house?” Marianne asked, her eyes shifting nervously but her mood starting to lighten up at the thought of a party.

“Of course, anything for you my dear,” Claude said with a playful wink.

“Thank you Claude,” Marianne replied, she paused for a moment and spoke again. “And... Claude?”

“Yes, Marianne?”

“I’m glad you’re safe and back with us.” She said, her lips forming into a small smile; a rare occasion.

“Thanks, Marianne. I am too.” Claude replied; a smile on his own face, albeit slightly hollow. He was happy that he was okay too. But whether or not he was happy to return to the Officer’s Academy, well… he wasn’t too sure.

=====

It was quite some time that Jeralt and Rhea spoke privately. Byleth was left alone with the stern green haired man, and the tension between the two was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Seteth tried to ease it, by instigating a few small talk conversations, but while Byleth was skilled in many things; talking was not one of them.

‘Where are you from?’

‘I don’t know‘

‘Mercenary life must be interesting.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘Nice weather we are having.’

‘It’s okay.’

It was like trying to hammer a nail with a wet fish; chaotic, messy, and the more Seteth tried to make it work, the worse it became. Both men let out a sigh of relief when the door to the archbishop’s office finally opened and both individuals stepped out.

“So, I’m going back to Faerghus with the rest of my crew to finish the job back there,” Jeralt said. Byleth could smell some wine on him. Drinking during the day was not new for Jeralt, but of all the times and places to do so? His father’s professionalism when they had initially arrived led Byleth to believe this archbishop was not someone to mess with. “After that, I’m coming back here to get my old job back as captain of the Knights of Seiros.”

“And what am I doing?” Byleth asked, his ire of his father’s habits replaced with confused concern for his own wellbeing.

“Nope.” Jeralt simply stated. “You’re staying here.”

“As a knight?” Byleth never saw himself as a knight, but he imagined it wasn’t that far off from mercenary work. Probably.

“Not quite.” Jeralt said, his voice was low and quiet. Byleth stared at him in bewilderment as he waited for an answer. It was Rhea who answered instead.

“You will be staying here as a professor of our Officer’s Academy here at Garreg Mach Monastery,” she said proudly. “You will teach our students here the art of combat and relaying your experience as a mercenary for their educational enrichment.”

“...what?” Byleth stood in shock as he tried to process the words coming from the archbishop’s mouth. He wasn’t the only one struggling with the news.

“Lady Rhea, are you sure?!” Seteth exclaimed, turning towards the green haired woman. “Him, teaching at our prestigious academy; him?!”

“Watch it twinkle-toes,” Jeralt barked, glaring at Seteth. His nervous, respectful speaking demeanor was long gone, whether from his talk with Rhea or cause of the wine.

“Forgive me, Jeralt” Seteth replied, but his tone suggested that he truly did not care about being forgiven. “But while we are eternally grateful for you both saving our students, there is a difference between that and your son working as a professor. He has no experience teaching, I’m not even sure what level of his education is, if he has any, and to be quite frank; his behavior is not professional.”

“Enough, Seteth!” Rhea exclaimed, her voice leaning towards an angry tone. She paused for a moment, and her expression began to shift back to a calm disposition. “I am in full confidence that Byleth will be able to step up to the task; what with your dutiful guidance and knowledge to help him get to that point.”

Seteth winced painfully as he registered her words; babysitting duty was being dumped on him, delivered with a smile of all things. Byleth watched as the man went through all five stages of grief in the expressions of his face alone. Seteth let out a heavy sigh.

“Understood, archbishop,” He replied, letting out a heavy sigh. “I will see that he is fully oriented, is given the resources he needs, and will provide all my knowledge and guidance so that he can reach success. Goddess help us all.”

With that, he left the Audience Chamber, leaving Jeralt, Byleth and Rhea remaining.

“Do I have to?” Byleth asked, his face in a pained and confused expression. He did not want to be here and he most certainly did not want to teach these brats or deal with these people. He turned to his father for a way out of this nightmare.

“Technically, you don’t.” Jeralt stated, crossing his arms. “You don’t have to work here. But you’re not coming with me to Faerghus, so unless you have any other plans…this is it.”

“But Jeralt, I--” Byleth felt his stomach churn at his father’s words.

“Nope, it’s a done deal,” Jeralt replied. “Just give it a try, will ya? Who knows, you might even like teaching. You probably won’t, but hey it could happen. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Jeralt reached in to give his son a hug, to which Byleth was even more confused by, until his father leaned into his ear and whispered .

“Watch out for Rhea, I don’t trust her. Stay on your guard.” He gave Byleth a firm couple of pats on the back, and began to head for the door.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Jeralt called out, his tone shifted back to a more playful manner. He gave a wave goodbye to his son.

Byleth watched in horror as his father left him behind with the archbishop. His father’s whispered advice did not leave Byleth with any shred of confidence in him being there. This was not good, not good at all. Byleth nearly jumped when he felt a hand touch his shoulder, he quickly turned around and was faced with a smiling Rhea.

“I know you are uneasy, but rest assured things will all work out,” she smiled. Alas, her “assurance” did not assure him at all, if anything, she made him more nervous.

Byleth quickly began to contemplate chasing after his father and leaving with him regardless. His father was stubborn as hell and would keep to his word that Byleth couldn’t join him, but at least whatever Byleth did after that would be better than being here, surely? Before Byleth could decide the answer to that, the doors to the audience chamber opened once more. Seteth returned with two older figures, one woman in her thirties to forties most likely, and a man who seemed to be in his sixties.

“So, where is our new professor? That stern, attractive hunk of a man; I’m just dying to meet him.” The woman cooed, quickly glancing around the audience chamber. “Seteth, are you sure he’s in here? I don’t see him. I swear I saw him earlier…”

“Manuela, I believe our ‘professor’ is the young man in front of us,” The older man said, nodding towards Byleth.

“Oh, how disappointing,” Manuela murmured, folding her arms as she assessed Byleth.

“Byleth, let me introduce you to your colleagues,” Seteth said. “To my right is--”

“My name is Hanneman von Essar. I’m a Crest scholar and a professor at the Officer’s academy. I specialize in teaching magic, archery, horsemanship, science, and history. I hope to be soon teaching courses in Crestology, however I have yet to receive authorization from the powers that be.” He interrupted and glared at Seteth, who merely glared back in return.

“My name is Manuela Casagranda,” the woman said, folding her arms slightly. “I’m a professor, songstress, a physician, and single. I teach healing, swordsmanship, flying, the arts, and science. Mostly courses such as biology, anatomy, and whatnot; everything else is Hanneman’s territory. I also run the choir; you’ll hear us perform every Sunday at morning service.”

Byleth was caught off guard by their gazes. Why were they looking at him? Was he supposed to say something? Recalling what the conversation was, he managed to put two and two together.

“Byleth Eisner. Mercenary…now professor. I don’t know what I’ll be teaching.” He shifted his gaze between Rhea and Seteth, looking for an answer. Rhea was smiling while Seteth just looked stressed out.

“Professor Byleth,” Seteth paused for a moment, as if trying to come to terms with the new name. “Professor Byleth will be teaching battle tactics, weapon specializations, and will supervise combat training.”

“As far as for me,” Seteth stated, looking to Byleth. “I primarily serve as advisor to the archbishop, but I also teach. I give lectures to students on a variety of subjects. Manuela and Hanneman teach first, second, and third year students. I teach second and third year students, while you only teach third year students. While it is also because you are new as a professor, this is also by design of the curriculum. Students don’t start handling weapons until their second year, but only by their third year do they really begin to put in the hours of actual weapon handling. You will be working extensively with the third year students because of this, so it would be prudent to get familiar with them.

“Professor Manuela and Professor Hanneman, thank you for your time.” Seteth said, turning towards the door. “Come along, Professor Byleth.”

Hanneman and Manuela left the Audience Chamber and proceeded to their destination. Byleth followed Seteth outside as well, but turned behind him briefly to look at Lady Rhea serenely gazing upon him as he left, with that same eerie smile on her face.

====

“Come gather around, students. Please find a seat and sit down.” Seteth said, speaking to the group of third year students as they begin to enter the room. Byleth and Seteth stood in front of what Byleth was told was the “Lecture Hall.” The students came from elsewhere in the monastery and were now summoned there, although they did not know what for. Once all students had settled in and were attentive, Seteth spoke once more.

“As many of you know, one of our previous professors will no longer be working here.” He paused for a moment and then continued. “Thanks to a band of mercenaries, your fellow students and house leaders are still with us here today. Their gallant efforts and unquestionable skill has earned the Church’s eternal gratitude, so much so that we have enlisted their support among our ranks. Most will be serving as knights or aiding our knights, while one of them will be your new professor.”

Seteth turned to face Byleth and motioned towards the mercenary, signalling him forward.

“This is Byleth Eisner, son of Jeralt Reus Eisner, whom some of you know as the ‘Blade Breaker.’ Jeralt has worked here as a knight before, and will be returning to his old position soon, which we are excited to announce. Ask nicely, and I’m sure he will be more than willing to give some advice, knowledge, or even an autograph if you are so keen for it.

“Byleth here will be replacing your previous professor.” Seteth continued. “While he does not have any experience teaching, he does have many years of experience in the art of combat as a mercenary, which will no doubt be helpful for all of you. Remember to treat Professor Byleth with the same respect and dignity as you are to give all of your professors and to behave in a proper manner as students.

“Now with that being said, let us begin with the introductions.” Seteth turned to the left side of the lecture hall. “These are the Black Eagle house students; they are home to the Adrestian Empire. You should already be well acquainted with their house leader, Edelgard von Hrelsvelg, heir to the Empire.”

“Hello, again.” Red said, something about her seemed concerned or nervous. “I must admit I am surprised to see you are our professor, but I look forward to your lessons.”

Byleth remained silent but nodded his head in acknowledgement. Seteth signalled to the next Black Eagle student sitting next to her to introduce himself.

“My name is Hubert von Vestra, son to Marquis Vestra. I give you my humblest gratitude for saving Lady Edelgard.” the man said. Dark hair and very thin eyebrows, he looked much older than most of the students and more closer to Byleth’s age. Something about the man unsettled Byleth, but he tried to pay it no mind. Seteth pointed to the next student.

“I am Ferdinand von Aegir!” the ginger haired male exclaimed very loudly with great zeal and pride. “I am heir to House Aegir and the eldest son of Duke Aegir. My family comes from a rich line of--”

“Enough, Ferdinand.” Seteth snapped, not eager to hear the long spiel the boy was no doubt about to prattle on about. Ferdinand looked surprised at the discipline, but quickly sat back down. Seteth motioned for the next student to go.

“My name is Petra,” a girl with purple hair said. She had an unusual tattoo right under her right eye, a design that Byleth had never seen before. “Brigid is the home.”

“Petra is our foreign exchange student; she is heir to the kingdom of Brigid. Her reading and writing of our language is very good, but her speaking still needs some work.” Seteth said, turning to Byleth briefly. Petra nodded her head to confirm the information and sat back down.

“My name is Caspar von Bergliez!” a younger boy with light blue hair exclaimed. He was shorter than most, and had lots of confidence and energy. “I am from House Bergliez and a defender of justice!”

Seteth shot the boy a glare, and Caspar quickly sat back down.

“Um…my name is Bernadetta von Varley, of House Varley.” A young girl with messy purple hair squeaked. She looked very nervous and like that she could break down any minute. “Um…that’s it. Can I go to my room now?!”

“No, Bernadetta, you may not.” Seteth said, his voice starting to sound tired and strained. Byleth, on the other hand, could not relate more to the young recluse. “Please just remain in your seat until introductions are over.”

Seteth turned to the next person to go, but saw that they were asleep. He motioned for someone to wake him up, and the girl beside the sleeping boy did so, prodding him with a cautious finger.

“Hah…” the boy yawned, he had dark green hair and had paler skin then Byleth. “Oh, my name is Linhardt von Hevring and I need a nap.”

He proceeded to sit back down and do just that. Seteth just sighed and motioned for the next student to go.

“My name is Dorothea Arnault. I’m a songstress from the Mittlefrank Opera Company. I’m here at the Officer’s Academy to look for my soulmate. Who knows, Professor, maybe you’re the one?” A girl with a black hat and long brown hair let a soft giggle escape from her lips and she sat back down. Despite the girl’s words, Byleth had his doubts.

“Thank you, Dorothea.” Seteth muttered sarcastically. He turned his attention towards the middle group in the room and pointed towards Blue, who stood and made a formal bow. “Here we have the Blue Lions house. These students are from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Their leader is Dimitri von Blaiddyd, crown prince; whom you also have already met.

“It was wonderful to meet your acquaintance again, Professor Byleth. Congratulations on your new position. I look forward to learning from you in the coming year.” He quickly sat back down and Byleth gave him a silent nod of acknowledgement.

“Kiss ass,” hissed another student, a male one with black hair and a scowl on his face. The crown prince did not respond to the other student, but his face looked quite frustrated and slightly embarrassed. Seteth just sighed audibly and motioned to the next student to introduce themselves.

“My name is Dedue Molinaro,” said a tall man with brown skin and light gray hair. He was much bigger than Byleth, with muscles to fill his large frame.

“I heard you were the one who rescued his Highness. Please allow me to express my eternal gratitude and know that if you ever need any assistance, I will most certainly repay this debt.” He spoke in a very monotone and formal manner.

“I am Sylvain Jose Gautier, son of Margrave Gautier and heir of House Gautier,” said a scarlet haired man, seemingly close to Byleth’s age. “I like good food and beautiful women. If you see any, be sure to let me know, okay?”

Sylvain let out a soft chuckle, but his face quickly fell when he gazed at Seteth’s murderous glare and promptly sat back in his seat without a peep.

“My name is Ingrid Brandl Galatea,” said a long haired blonde girl. Her hair was long and braided that ran down her back. She had a formal manner about her. “I am heir to House Galatea and daughter of Count Galatea. Thank you for saving his Highness.”

“Felix Fraldarius,” said a dark haired man. He was the same young man that insulted Dimitri moments ago. “I want to spar with you.”

“Not now, Felix.” Seteth said, Felix just grunted in response and promptly sat back down. Byleth was rather surprised at how forward the young man was.

“Hi! My name is Annette Fantine Dominic. I’m from House Dominic. It’s really nice to meet you!” A young ginger haired girl said as she gave a quick enthusiastic wave and promptly sat down.

“I am Mercedes von Martritz,” said an older blonde woman with long blonde hair. She had a gentle demeanor about her. “Tell me professor, are you religious? Do you believe in the Goddess?”

A few faces around her looked surprised or mildly uncomfortable with her asking such a bold question.

“No,” replied Byleth, his stoic expression not faltering. Seteth shot him an angry glare, but Byleth ignored him.

“I see,” the older girl replied. There was slight hesitation in her voice, but she remained smiling. “Well, I shall pray for you, then.”

“Um, my name is Ashe Ubert,” spoke a gray haired boy with freckles as Mercedes sat down. He was the youngest looking boy in his house, and seemed a little nervous but friendly. “It’s nice to meet ya.”

He quickly sat back down, concluding the introductions to the Blue Lions house.

“Over here,” Seteth said, pointing to the right side of the lecture hall. “We have the students from the Golden Deer house. They are from the Leicester Alliance territories. You are already are familiar with their house leader, Claude von Riegan, heir to the Leicester Alliance and House Riegan.”

“Heya,” Yellow greeted, lying back in his seat in a relaxed position. “Guess this means I call you ‘Teach’ from now on, huh?”

His laidback, non-formal manner stood out compared to the other house leaders.

“Claude, please address your new professor by his proper title.” Seteth replied, growing increasingly tired of the antics of the students. Claude didn’t say anything in reply, but based on his expression and body language, Byleth assumed he wasn’t listening.

“Hey there,” piped up a girl with pink hair, tied in two long pigtails. She had a very feminine appearance and mannerisms about her. “My name is Hilda Valentine Goneril. I am from House Goneril. Just to let you know professor, I have a special medical condition that--”

“Hilda,” Seteth interrupted her. “If you are having medical problems that interfere with your learning, you must first speak and have it verified with Manuela. Until then, you do not have any medical condition. Please sit down.”

The young girl let out a loud sigh and promptly sunk back in her seat, giving the archbishop’s advisor a stink eye.

“I am Lorenz Hellman Gloucester,” said a purple haired young man with the ugliest haircut Byleth had ever seen. “I am the eldest son and heir to House Gloucester. While I question your judgement in saving Claude, I do look forward to learning under you as the son of the Blade Breaker.”

Lorenz sat back down, and Byleth watched as Claude sat visibly annoyed at the words from the other Golden Deer student. Byleth didn’t get why saving Claude was an issue, but he didn’t press the matter, he truly didn’t care that much.

“My name is Marianne von Edmund, daughter to Margrave Edmund.” A gloomy blue haired girl said, she had dark circles around her eyes, most likely from lack of sleep. She could barely look at Byleth and simply sat back down in her seat.

“I am Lysithea von Ordelia, heir to House Ordelia.” A small white haired girl stood as she gave her introduction, and promptly sat back down and continued to read a book she had seemingly brought with her.

“My name is Ignatz Victor,” said a meekish boy with glasses. He had a large sketchbook on his desk. “It is very nice to meet you.”

He mumbled, quickly sitting back down. The person next to him shot up like a bullet.

“Leonie Pinelli,” the girl stated. She had very short ginger hair that matched her eyes. “You’re Captain Jeralt’s son, right? I met him in Saiun Village, that’s my home. He taught me everything I know; so that makes me his first and best apprentice. I assume Captain Jeralt has mentioned me?”

“No,” Byleth replied, her intensity in how she spoke of Byleth’s father was impressive, albeit unnerving. He watched the girl’s face fall in response. His father never spoke about too many people, but least of all an apprentice.

“Is he still here?!” she continued, her voice growing in volume. “I need to see him!”

“Leonie, please sit down. Jeralt isn’t here at the moment; but he will be back in a week or so,” Seteth explained. Leonie sat back down; arms crossed over her chest and looked mildly disappointed. Finally it was the last student who stood up to be introduced.

“My name is Raphael Kirsten,” replied a large, blonde male student. His height and size rivaled Dedue from the Blue Lions. He was so big, his own shirt looked like it was barely holding it together and about to come apart at the buttons.

“Hey Professor, I gotta say, you don’t really look like a mercenary. You’re so thin, where are your muscles?! We should wrestle some time.” He smiled and promptly sat back down; Byleth decided to ignore the insult and continued to keep his silence.

“With that, introductions are completed.” Seteth said, as he towards the students. “Professor Byleth will have his first lecture come Monday. Until then, continue your duties as normal.”

Byleth and Seteth watched as the students got up and left the Lecture Hall; some talking amongst themselves as they did so. Once all the students had left, Seteth turned his attention back to Byleth.

“Well, that is…done.” He said, aggressively rubbing the temples on his forehead, visibly tired from the ordeal. “I suppose you are ready to head to your room?”

Byleth began to aggressively nod his head yes, and Seteth nodded back in return.

Byleth quietly followed the archbishop’s advisor as the two crossed the grounds of the monastery. Much of the layout looked all the same to Byleth, but he figured he’d get it… eventually. The two continued to walk in silence, until they finally came up to a room.

It was a small, simple room, but more than enough of what Byleth needed. The bed was already made and the room looked clean and tidy. Byleth walked inside and saw his bag of belongings on the bed. He quickly walked over and began to inspect it, checking to make sure everything got in. What few items he had were present, so Byleth moved the bag from the bed to the floor.

“Now before you get situated,” Seteth said, heading towards the door to enter the room. “We should go over all the rules and regulations of the monastery and afterwards we should discuss your first lecture plans. Here at the Officer’s Academy, we take academics very ser--”

Before Seteth could even finish his sentence or enter the room, Byleth slammed the door and locked it quickly in the same breath. Byleth quietly stood in front of the door, listening for Seteth’s audible reaction. He could feel the pure rage emitting from Seteth on the other side of the door. Byleth stood ready, just in case Seteth was ready for a fight.

“Fine,” Seteth hissed, sounding anything but fine. “We will continue this tomorrow. But please know, Professor Byleth, if you are not awake by the time I arrive tomorrow morning; I will wake you up myself.”

Byleth just rolled his eyes at Seteth’s threat. Byleth thought him to be an ass, but he did not think Seteth remotely stood as a threat, at least physically. The worst Byleth could see him doing was what, nag him to death?

As Byleth heard Seteth’s footsteps get quieter and quieter, signaling that he was truly leaving Byleth alone, Byleth turned to his bed and quickly began to disrobe. Everything soon came flying off, with the exception of his underwear. He promptly fell face forward on the bed; a loud satisfied moan escaped his lips as he hit the mattress. It was so soft and felt so good.

These were nice beds, not the common, cheap ones Byleth was used to sleeping on as he, his father, and his father’s mercenary company traveled from place to place. These were the kind of beds that you never wanted to leave, and after the long day he had, it truly felt like heaven. He closed his eyes and his mind began to drift.

“A new place to explore, new people to meet, and new things to do; and you choose to sleep. Really, you are very dull!” A familiar voice rang out. Byleth heard her, but as his consciousness began to rapidly dwindle, he struggled to recognize the presence of another person in the room.

“Leave me alone, I wanna sleep.” Byleth whined, his face was head down into the soft pillow so his voice came out slightly muffled, but it was still audible. He shifted ever so slightly as he began to get more and more comfortable on the bed.

“I know you want to sleep, that is the problem. If you were—wait a minute, are you talking to me? Byleth, can you hear me now? Byleth?! Byleth! Byleth you fool, wake up! I said wake up! Of all the times you do this--argh!” the girl exclaimed. She continued to shout his name, trying to get his attention, her voice getting louder and louder in attempts to keep him up. But it was too late. He was falling too fast.

“Shut it, Sothy” Byleth mumbled, as his mind finally reached the point in which no one could disturb him; at least for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to Dtale for beta reading this chapter. <3


	4. Fucking Around

Verdant Wind

Great Tree Moon

Chapter 4: Fucking Around

====

_Year 1167_

_“Sothy, are you real?”_

_As the bright sun shone through the trees, the wind began to blow gently; shaking the foliage ever so softly in the breeze. Beneath the leaves of these trees, was a young boy carrying a small stick in his hand as he lightly tapped each tree he came across upon with it. With teal blue hair and blue eyes that gave a blank expression, he methodically hopped from tree to tree to tap the stick against each one. A seemingly young girl with green hair floated behind him._

_“What manner of question is that?” Sothis asked, constantly changing her course as she followed the boy around. “Of course, I am ‘real.’ Why would I not be?” _

_It was a strange question, but it was also one that plagued the girl on a daily basis. Although she never expressed it to the boy, Sothis was greatly disturbed by how little she knew about herself, besides her name._

_“Then how come no one else can see you? My dad says you’re not real. The other kids laugh at me when I talk about you.” The young boy asked as his face soured at the thought of the children from the village._

_Sothis remained silent for quite some time. It was true; Byleth was the only one who could see her, nobody else could. Sothis had no memories beyond Byleth’s birth and she could not stray too far from the boy. It was a very peculiar situation; to be chained to the boy and see the world exclusively with him._

_Did that mean she was not her own person? Was she truly a figment of the boy’s imagination like the boy’s father, Jeralt, believed her to be? But that did not make sense, as she had her own thoughts; ones quite different from Byleth’s. No, she was her own person and existed in some sense. It was just not on the same level as the humans around her. She did not exist physically, at least as far as she knew._

_“Well, your father is wrong, Byleth.” Sothis explained. “After all, can you see the wind? No you cannot, but it still exists because you can feel it. As such, I exist because you can still see me.” _

_It was a crude comparison, but one that would have to do for now, as Byleth was very young and his intelligence could be rather questionable on some days._

_“Hm…” Byleth hummed, stopping for a moment in his stick hitting campaign to gaze absentmindedly into the distance. He did not seem to buy, or perhaps understand, the explanation; but he did not argue with her either. He would probably just forget her answer and bring the topic up again in a couple days from now, Sothis imagined._

_“Also, how many times have I told you; my name is ‘Sothis.’ Not ‘Sothy.’ Say it with me; ‘So-this.’” She corrected, making sure to properly annunciate her name slowly, in attempt to get the boy to retain the name._

_“So…thee. Sothy!” Byleth replied. Sothis could only rub her temples in frustration. She did not know if the boy did it on purpose to agitate her or was truly such a fool. Either way, it was exhausting._

_“Never mind then,” she sighed, crossing her legs and sitting upright as she floated in the air. “For now, we must discuss what you plan to do today. You are not going to sleep all day again.”_

_“I could go climb trees…” Byleth suggested, gazing upon the trees around him. Unfortunately, the branches were much too high up for him, he would have to look further into the forest for better ones._

_“Absolutely not, you will fall.” Sothis explained harshly. She grew weary of having to save the boy all the time from the consequences of his childish antics. “Think of something else.”_

_“I saw some pretty berries earlier...” young Byleth said, his mouth starting to salivate at the thought of sweet berries to eat._

_“Those are poisonous. Do not eat them, they will make you sick.” How any child will manage to survive to adulthood without being watched constantly was beyond Sothis’ comprehension. The things they loved to do and put in their mouths; the thought made Sothis quite exhausted just thinking about it._

_“I could play in the river again…” Byleth mumbled, starting to get irritated by Sothis’ strict verdicts on his ideas of things to do that day. It was always such a damper on him when adults or Sothis would tell him “no”._

_“Last time you did that you almost drowned and I had to save you, so no. Think again.” Sothis replied, her tone harsh and serious. But it was never out of malice, more so concern. Sometimes it took some extra measures for her to get the boy to listen. The boy was more thick skulled than others._

_“I could make a mud house.”_

_Sothis sighed. “Yes, playing in the mud is an acceptable activity. Although you will get filthy, again, there is no danger in it. Nanna will scold you for getting so dirty; but you never seem to listen to her, anyway.” _

_Byleth nodded his head. His caretaker was a decent lady, but he never listened to her. Granted, Byleth did not listen to many people, period. Sothis knew this all too well._

_“But do not eat the dirt this time!” she exclaimed, quickly falling to her side in midair as she floated above the boy. _

_“Why children love to put their mouths on everything they touch is beyond my comprehension.” Being stuck with Byleth, Sothis had to witness all the nasty things children would do; and the things they put in their mouth was a strong category of “revolting things children do.”_

_“I’m gonna make a mud house.” Byleth said, looking around the forest clearing for supplies; mainly things like twigs, sticks, leaves, and rocks._

_“Yes, yes. You do that, little one.” Sothis mumbled, one eye shut and the other open, watching the boy carefully. Over the years, Sothis quickly learned that it only took a few seconds of her looking away for Byleth to get into some kind of trouble._

_“I’ll make you a mud house, too, Sothy.” Byleth stated, as he turned his attention towards the ground. He began to collect small rocks, twigs, leaves, and other bits of foliage from the area. Once he was done, he found a nice, wet, muddy spot in the dirt and placed his materials to his side._

_“O-oh, is that so?” Sothis stammered, caught off guard by the boy’s words. “Thank you, what a kind gesture.” _

_It was only mud, but it was the little gestures that Byleth would do for her that she always loved to see._

_“What do you want in your house, Sothy?” Byleth asked. Taking both hands, he began scooping and shuffling mud around into one giant lump. Byleth would always try to make a big “house” but would always give up and settle for a smaller size when he realized his idea was too difficult._

_ “Just make me a nice, comfy chair to sit in.” Sothis said, lying upon her left side idly as she floated in the air._

_“Okay, Sothy.”_

_A good amount of time passed as Sothis idly watched Byleth work away at their mud houses. While safe, Sothis thought playing in the mud was the most boring of Byleth’s activities. It would be a different story if she could interact with the boy; but she fazed through everything she tried to touch. She was tempted to close her eyes for a moment of rest, but she knew the moment she did Byleth would do something stupid._

_“Sothy, is my dad ever coming back?” Byleth asked, breaking the long silence between them. He was working on his second mud house. The first was covered in a variety of leaves, rocks, and sticks. It looked like a mess but Byleth worked hard on it._

_“Of course, why would he not? He promised he would and he always comes back.” Sothis replied, gazing upon the small child intensely. Byleth was not a very expressive child, and he did not emotionally react to things like normal children. But every once in a while, he would say things such as this that showed Sothis there was more going on beneath the surface than most perceived._

_“Louie said he wouldn’t.” Byleth explained, his eyes casted downwards, not looking at the floating girl. “Louie said my dad left and he’s not gonna come back, ever.”_

_“Yes, well, Louis likes to lick toads for fun. You should not listen to him.” Sothis grimaced as she recalled the event. Out of all the other children in the village, Louis was her least favorite. Such a nasty little boy._

_“But my dad’s been gone so long…it’s been forever…” Byleth mumbled, his voice beginning to soften._

_“It has only been seven days, Byleth.” Sothis retorted._

_“But that’s forever…” Byleth whined as he turned his gaze towards the floating girl._

_“Little one,” Sothis calmly spoke. “I know you miss your father dreadfully, but you must be patient. He comes back; he always does. Am I ever wrong?”_

_“...I don’t know.” Byleth murmured after a great moment of silence._

_“The answer is no, I am never wrong.” Sothis explained, emphasizing her words. “Now, continue on our houses. If you do well, I shall praise you.”_

_“Okay, Sothy.” Byleth replied, turning his gaze back to the second mud house. Grabbing a handful of mud, Byleth was about to place it upon the large mass, but suddenly found himself staring at it intently. Opening his mouth, he brought the handful of wet dirt towards it._

_“Hey! What did I say about eating the mud?! Put that down!” Sothis hissed at him, flailing about to catch his attention before it was too late._

_“Sorry, Sothy.” He gently lowered his arm, shaken out of his childish reverie._

====

4/19, Year 1180

Byleth let out a small groan as he began to stir in his bed. He could hear the tweeting of birds outside his window, signaling the early morning hours. His body was stiff and sore from oversleeping as he rolled over to his other side slowly, his legs shifting between the sheets. As he slowly opened his eyes, he began to see a familiar shape take form; a green haired girl standing across from him, arms and legs crossed, floating in the air as she glared at the young man with an angry scowl on her face. As old, faint memories began to come back to him, Byleth quickly shut his eyes and shifted back to his former position, body facing away from the girl and towards the wall of his room, trying to feign sleep.

“If you think that I will fall for that trick Byleth, you are a bigger fool than I ever thought you were. Get up,” The girl ordered. But Byleth said nothing in return, remained absolutely still, motionless. Head buried in his pillow, he had hoped that the obnoxious girl would give up and go away; leaving him to his peace. He was wrong.

“Fine, if you wish to act as a child; then I shall return the favor in kind.” The girl said, as she hovered over him as he slept on his bed. Byleth heard her make one loud audible inhale of air before the hell came.

“GET UP, BYLETH!” She yelled into his ear, beginning to rapidly and aggressively clap her hands to accompany her words. “GET UP. GET UP. GET UP. GET UP. GET UP. GET UP. GET UP. IT IS TIME TO GET UP, YOU FOOL. I WILL NOT BE IGNORED!”

Sothis then let out a pure, unadulterated scream that was as loud as it was annoying. It was much more draconic than Byleth would have expected.

Annoyed and fed up with her belligerent hollering, Byleth jolted upwards and angrily chucked his pillow in her direction. To his shock, the pillow did not “hit” her, but merely phased right through her. A confused, quizzical expression was left on Byleth’s face as his mouth hanged agape.

“Close your mouth, unless you want to catch flies in there.” Sothis said. Byleth instinctually closed his mouth and the girl continued. “As you can see, physical objects cannot touch me. In return, I cannot interact with physical objects either. I should also mention—hey, look at me!”

Halfway through her explanation, Byleth simply rose from his bed. He silently dug through his belongings and began to dress himself; his back turned against the girl, ignoring her presence. In an angry manner, the girl floated towards his direction and defiantly stood in front of the young man, face to face, as she locked eyes with him.

“Do not ignore me, I said—hey!” Byleth quickly averted his eyes away, to which the girl replied in fashion by floating in front of his face again. Byleth kept trying to avoid the girl’s gaze repeatedly, but each time she followed his gaze until he grew tired and gave up.

“What is my name?” she questioned angrily. Her arms were crossed again, her brows furrowed heavily on her face as she glared at him. She was mad as a hornet.

“Toe-this” Byleth said defiantly, as he sat on the side of his bed, putting on his boots, watching for the girl’s reaction.

“Oh, I imagine you think you are just SO clever, don’t you?” she sneered. Sothis paused for a moment as she waited for Byleth to finish dressing. “What do you remember?”

“Bits and pieces.” Byleth stated. It was true, albeit vague. He remembered yesterday well enough, but only fragments of memories from the past.

“Do you remember yesterday?” she asked. Byleth nodded. “Good, that will have to make do for now. With any hope, your memories should return. In the meantime we shou--”

Suddenly, loud knocking could be heard, interrupting Sothis.

“Professor Byleth, are you up?” a familiar voice called out. It was Seteth, the archbishop’s advisor, whom Byleth had met yesterday. Byleth’s face began to cringe as the events of the day before began to flood his mind. Suddenly, he remembered that Sothis was floating right across from him and he began to panic.

“Get out of here, now!” Byleth harshly whispered, his eyes darting back between the door and the girl. He quickly stood up from the bed and began to make a “shooing” motion with his hands.

“What?!” Sothis cried out. Byleth winced at the volume of her voice. “You are just so rude! How dare you?!”

“Professor Byleth, please say something and get up. I do not have time for this.” Seteth said as he continued to knock and bang on Byleth’s door. His voice began to sound very frustrated and very agitated.

“Keep your damn voice down,” Byleth hissed at her, his voice low and quiet.

“And get lost!” Sothis just stared at him in confusion, as if the young man had spoken to her in a foreign language.

“Professor Byleth! Please answer me; are you up?!” Seteth exclaimed, his voice getting louder and aggravated by the minute. Byleth began to panic as he felt the pressure of the situation increase.

“You need to leave, now!” Byleth hissed at Sothis. “If he sees you in here, he is going to have a fit!”

“Byleth!” Seteth shouted, angrily banging on the door. Byleth knew he needed to open the door soon, but he could not risk Seteth seeing Sothis.

“I cannot ‘leave,’ you fool!” Sothis exclaimed, trying to project her voice over the loud banging and shouting coming from outside the door. “Besides it matters not anyway, for you see--”

But before Sothis could finish, she was interrupted by a loud cracking noise, followed by a large booming sound. Byleth turned towards the direction of the door and was greeted by a small gust of wind as the door was suddenly snatched from view and in its stead stood a furious Seteth. Byleth and Sothis stood dumbfounded.

“You!” Seteth roared, as he angrily stomped into Byleth’s room. “I warned you that if you were not up and dressed by the time I arrived—oh.”

Suddenly, Seteth’s angry expression quickly faltered and was replaced with a look of surprise instead.

“You are up. And you are dressed.” He stated, confused at the turn of events. He turned to his right. “Which means that I just ripped off your door…for nothing. Oh my, this is embarrassing.”

He leaned down to pick up the door, but it was in pieces. He grabbed two larger pieces and held them together, as if trying to determine if the door could be salvaged and repaired, though it most certainly could not.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Seteth asked, turning back to face towards Byleth. But Byleth said nothing, as he and Sothis both just stood there with their mouths agape with shock.

“D-did he just—did that man just rip off your door?!” Sothis exclaimed, the first of the two to speak. “How dare he! The nerve that rude man has! The gall!”

Byleth did not care if the act was rude or not; he was just shocked that the man had the strength to pull such a feat. Byleth realized he had greatly underestimated Seteth.

“Ah, never mind then.” Seteth murmured as Byleth failed to respond to his previous question. “I will…fix this; I will make sure you get a new door. It will take some time for it to arrive, so I will put something in your doorway to give you some privacy, in the meantime.

“I, uh, deeply apologize for this.” Seteth said nervously. “It seems I let my temper get the better of me, and acted quite rashly and most foolishly. For that, I am sorry. I can only hope you can overlook this folly of mine, at least briefly, as we have much to go over today.

“If you could follow me, we can get started on your tour of the monastery and go over some necessary information.” Seteth turned and exited Byleth’s room, and Byleth quickly and quietly followed suit.

“Do not follow him!” Sothis hissed. “Who knows what this man will do to you next?!”

Byleth ignored her, however, as he was more concerned about what Seteth would do if he didn’t follow him. The last thing either of them needed was for Seteth “accidentally” ripping off Byleth’s arm. Byleth remained silent as Seteth began his tour of the monastery.

====

Seteth and Byleth walked in silence at first, Byleth had to put in some effort to keep up with the other man, as he was unusually speedy, on top of being terrifyingly strong. Suddenly, it dawned on Byleth that Seteth hadn’t reacted to the floating green haired girl that was following him. In fact, nobody was reacting to her; none of the clergy members or knights they had past had even once reacted to the sight of Sothis floating about. Confused, Byleth turned to the girl behind him, pointed at her and then pointed at Seteth, a befuddled expression on his face.

“As I was about to say before we were so rudely interrupted by the behemoth over there,” Sothis said, glaring at Seteth who remained undisturbed. “Nobody can see or hear me, only you can. It has been like this for as long as I can remember.”

Byleth was not sure what to think of her answer, other than it sounded like bullshit. But he also could not deny the fact that no one else seemed to be reacting to the bizarre phenomenon of the floating girl. He did not think on the subject long, however, as Seteth soon came to a full stop, as he stood in front of a building.

“Where we just came from were the faculty dormitories,” Seteth said, pointing to the building in front of them. “Down here, are the student dormitories.”

“Due to an…incident last year, all students are required to room with another student. The exceptions being the house leaders of each house of each grade, of course. All staff members of course get their own rooms, but the Knights of Seiros have their own barracks across the grounds.” He turned away for a moment at the mention of the incident, sweat forming on his brow as he pointed towards the direction of the knights’ barracks.

“During the hours of 8 p.m. to 5 a.m. you are expected to keep volume and noise to a minimum. You are not to bring any kind of food or drinks besides water to your room; all food is to be eaten at the Dining Hall. This is to prevent vermin infestation.” He paused for a moment and looked at Byleth. “Are you allergic to cats or dogs, by chance?”

“…No?” Byleth responded, looking rather confused. He was not particularly sure, but did not have any problems before. Granted, he never was around many cats or dogs, either.

“I ask because we keep many animals on the grounds; they help keep vermin away and are very popular among the members of the Church. But, they are known to get into rooms at times even when they are unwanted. If one begins to annoy you, just gently remove it out of your room and or call someone else to come help you remove them. Just please don’t hurt them.” Seteth pleaded him, looking sad at the thought. Byleth gave him a curt nod in response. As long as they were friendly and didn't bite, he would be patient.

“Good, now let us proceed.” He replied, nodding in agreement with Byleth before he continued walking. It did not take them long to come across a building with stained glass windows. “This is the greenhouse. Here, we grow some of our own food supplies as well as cultivate other kinds of plants such as medicinal herbs. Tending to the plants in the greenhouse is one of the many responsibilities our students are tasked to assist with.”

Seteth turned to the left and headed towards a large pond. There was a small dock to the southern end and a fishing stall stood right in front of it. An artificial waterfall extended from the top of some building structure and descended straight into the pond. A group of cats sat near the stall and eyed the contents with lust in their eyes. Standing among the cats, a young girl with green hair and green eyes could be seen, staring intently at the contents of the fish stall as well.

“Here is our fishing pond.” He motioned to the waterfall. “Due to our waterfall system, fresh fish come in and out of the pond, creating a resource for food for the monastery. Feel free to fish any time you like.

“And that girl over there? That is my sister, Flayn. She is neither staff nor a student, but is staying with me. I would prefer that you do not engage in conversation with her at all, but if she initiates a conversation, please be kind. Regardless of what you think of me, do not take it out on Flayn.” Seteth pointed to the young girl eyeing the stall, speaking with familial concern.

“By the way,” he continued. “If she asks for a fish and you have one on your person; please for the love of the Goddess, give it to her. I will pay you if need be, I am a busy man and my sister has very specific and very demanding cravings.”

“What a peculiar pair of siblings.” Sothis mused as Seteth’s face fell for a moment, lost in memories. Byleth couldn’t help but nod in agreement. Although, he couldn’t help but think fish cravings sounded like a much better problem to have than accidentally ripping doors off their hinges.

“Thank you,” Seteth said, thinking that Byleth was responding to him. “Now let us continue with the tour.

“Behind us,” he stated, turning around to face the direction he spoke about. “Is the dining hall. It opens at six a.m. and closes at ten p.m. Meals are designated and planned in advance, although there is always a selection to choose from. As faculty members, we are on the food plan that allows us to eat as much as we like, although it does come out of our paycheck. Students chose the limited or unlimited food plans upon enrollment; or at least, their parents decided for them.”

Byleth quickly eyed the place, trying to preserve its image in his memory; as it was arguably the most important place in the whole monastery. Seteth then turned around and Byleth followed him, and a familiar sight stood before them.

“Here is the Marketplace. This is the one and only entrance to the monastery. Thus, it is heavily guarded. Many merchants come in on a daily basis and set up shop, usually to sell individual goods to the students and staff, but occasionally larger supplies as well.” Byleth recognized this place as where he and his father came in with Alois and his entourage. It was a busy place with all sorts of shops. Byleth recognized a blacksmith, an armory, and a few other merchants that seemed to sell a variety of goods.

“Behind us is the Entrance Hall,” Seteth said, motioning towards a large building. “And beyond that is our Reception Hall. There is where we host many social events, such as our yearly Academy Ball.”

Byleth was not surprised that the monastery held social events, but a ball? That sounded a bit…extravagant, for a church.

“Good morning, Seteth!” shouted a young guard, cladded in armor.

“All is clear, here, Sir! Nothing to report!” He stood in front of the Entrance Hall, saluting to the archbishop’s advisor.

“Good morning, Gatekeeper!” Seteth shouted back, giving a small wave to the other man. “That is good to hear. Keep up the good work!”

“‘Gatekeeper?’” Byleth asked quizzically as they began walking again. He flashed Seteth a confused look and saw in the corner of his eye that Sothis also had a similar expression.

“Ah, yes, that.” Seteth rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “It is a nickname of sorts. Years ago, he showed up at the monastery out of the blue, started watching the gate for us, and would come running to report any suspicious behavior. He kept doing this day in and day out, that eventually the archbishop gave him the job, the official title of ‘gatekeeper’; and most have been calling him that ever since.

“Truth be told, many of the staff actually forgot his name and are too embarrassed to ask, such as myself.” Seteth confessed, a scandalized blush marring his expression.

“That is rather sad, if not pitiful.” Sothis observed, floating alongside the two men as she listened in on their conversation. “For everyone to forget your name and simply call you by some silly title; how dreadful.”

Byleth couldn’t help but agree, but said nothing. As the two rounded the corner, the smell of horses and hay was rather strong.

“These are the stables.” Seteth said, not stopping his pace. They came across another building to their right. “And this is the Knight’s Hall. On the second floor is the Knights’ Dormitories. As a professor of the Officer’s Academy, you won’t be using the building too much, but for general information it is good to know should the situation require it.”

After much walking and crossing a small bridge, the Byleth and Seteth reached the cathedral. It was one of the largest structures in the whole monastery. It was very wide and spacious; numerous voices could be heard echoing throughout the grand structure. The cathedral was full of countless rows of wooden pews, as well as many columns that supported the grand structure. All the windows were of colored stained glass, many of them bearing an illustration of some kind. The walls were decorated with extravagant murals and decorative pieces. In the far back of the cathedral, stood a single throne; likely for the archbishop herself. Byleth watched as numerous members of the Church of Seiros walked throughout the cathedral; chatting amongst themselves and engrossing themselves in their work.

“This is where all religious rites and services are performed. Each week we have a Sunday service, given by one of our bishops as well as hearing our choir sing. We hold services on special occasions as well, such as the days of Seiros and the Four Saints. As a professor and faculty member, you are not required to come to the service, but it is encouraged.” Unfortunately for Seteth, this was a waste of his breath, as Byleth had already made the decision to never, ever bother attending the service.

“Make note of the small boxes over there to the left,” Seteth said, pointing in the direction of the boxes. “Those are the advice boxes, each professor or major staff member has one. It allows students, or occasionally some staff, to ask for advice anonymously. Each box has a colored flag on the side of it; red means someone has left a request for help, blue means that the faculty member has answered it. Students are asked to use a fake name or alias to help keep track of the notes. When you are done with a response, just fold it and put the requester’s fake name or number on top so they know it’s theirs.

“Try to do these if you can,” Seteth continued. “As not all students have the courage to confide in person. And please, please be respectful and considerate in your responses. Students in particular often come carrying a lot of grievances and troubles from home and look to faculty to help them, not hurt them.”

Byleth nodded in agreement. He thought that it sounded a little all too dramatic coming from Seteth, but Byleth didn’t have a problem with playing nice with students that asked for help.

“While the man is stern, overbearing and abnormally uptight; he does possess a rather kind, compassionate side to him, at least when it comes to the students.” Sothis said, quietly assessing the green haired man. “However, his attitude towards doors is concerning…”

Byleth didn’t respond, but couldn’t agree more.

The two men then promptly turned back around and crossed the small bridge once more. They found themselves standing in the hallway just across the reception hall. Seteth turned to his right and motioned his hand forward.

“In that direction, are three main points of interest.” He said, gesturing towards the area he spoke of. “First, the Officer’s Academy. It is the building closest to us and contains the homerooms of all three grade years of each house. On the first floor are the third year students, the second, the second year students, and third floors, the first year students. Right next to the homerooms, in the same building, is the lecture hall; where you will be giving your lectures to the students.”

“Would it not be easier to remember if they put the third year students on the third floor, and the first year students on the first?” Sothis questioned, as she reclined back in the air on her side as she floated next to Byleth. “What a confusing system this place has.”

Byleth chose to just ignore the girl as Seteth continued his tour.

“Further down and in the corner is the training grounds.” Seteth explained, pointing in the direction he spoke of, north of the Officer’s Academy. “That is where you will be doing your supervision of the students as they learn how to handle weapons and practice combat. The grounds are kept by Jeritza, a faculty member who supervises some of the practicing of the first and second year students as well.

“Left of the training grounds is the sauna. In that building, we have the laundry room, the bathing areas, and of course the sauna. All faculty members and students are expected to do their own laundry. The bathing area consists of multiple small private showers, as well as many larger public shower rooms, segregated by gender. Students have their own room for public showers; while knights, staff, and faculty all share their own public shower rooms. Every once in a while there is an exception to this; usually if a staff member is a minor or if a student is greatly older than their classmates. Towels are provided for both the bathing area and the sauna.

“But for now, let us head upstairs.” Seteth said, pointing towards a large staircase. As the older man started the ascent, Byleth followed suit, with Sothis floating ever so diligently behind him. They soon arrived at the next floor of the building, one that Byleth recognized before. He had been here previously with his father yesterday to see the archbishop.

“This floor is primarily for the faculty. You’ve been to the audience room already. Rhea’s office is also in that direction, left of the audience room.” Seteth pointed to the grander, open door that led to the chamber. Byleth recalled his father and the archbishop disappearing into a side room, and assumed that was her office.

“Down this way, are the other faculty offices.” Seteth explained, turning to face the opposite direction. “The first to our right is my office. The first to the left is the Captain’s Quarters; that is where your father will be working at. The following right is Professor Hanneman’s office. The following left is the infirmary and where Professor Manuela can often be found. You will not get an office.”

“What?!” Sothis exclaimed, visibly shocked. “That is not fair!

“You are a professor here too; you should have an office as well! Demand that you get an office too, Byleth! Do it! Accept no less than what the other teachers get!” Sothis ordered, turning to face Byleth, waiting for a response that never came. Byleth did not give two figs about having an office. Instead, he just ignored the girl as Seteth rambled on.

“Down the hall on your right is the library.” Seteth continued speaking, completely unaware that Byleth’s attention was partially split between him and an angry floating gremlin beside him. “Down the hall on your left are the commons room and the cardinal’s room. The commons room is a lounge and work area for other faculty members that don’t have individual offices. The Cardinal’s Room is a meeting place to discuss matters of the monastery amongst staff. If you are summoned to a meeting, show up and don’t be late.

“Now, let us go into my office and please, have a seat.” He said, opening the door for Byleth and gesturing to his desk. Byleth promptly followed his directions with little resistance, eager to get the whole experience over with. While she was sulking with a pout, likely from being ignored; Sothis quietly floated behind Byleth.

As Byleth stepped into Seteth’s office, the first thing he noticed was the interior design. Half of the room was covered by wooden bookshelves against the walls, full to the brim of books. On top of the bookshelves to the right of the office was a selected array of decorative weapons, gleaming from an extravagant polishing session. On the left side, the wall was decorated with numerous diagrams, drawings, and blueprints of some kind pinned to it. A rich indigo carpet covered the whole room, and in the middle stood a wooden desk, two chairs in front and one behind it. Behind the desk, a multi-colored stained glass window stood and bathed the room in a variety of colored light.

Byleth took a seat in one of the chairs in front, and Seteth walked by on his right, thumbing the spines of the lower shelf before grabbing a rather large tome with some difficulty, surprising to Byleth and Sothis who knew the advisor’s immense strength, before he took his seat behind the desk, setting the massive book down. Byleth squinted as he read the words “_Rules and Regulations of Garreg Mach Monastery_” on the cover. Seteth also pulled out a select handful of individual papers from within his desk as well as a paper folder full of even more sheets of paper, though neither of the items were nowhere near as intimidating as the book of rules.

“As it stands,” Seteth stated, pushing the thick book towards Byleth’s direction. “I do not have the time to explain and go over in detail of every rule in the monastery. You can read some of the rule book here yourself, and we have two extra copies in the library as well if you’d rather read it another time. Half of it is relevant for you, as it pertains to the Officer’s Academy as well as general staff rules for living at the monastery. The sections for the Knights of Seiros are not necessary for you to read, though you may if you wish.”

“What a large book!” Sothis exclaimed, floating in closer to examine it as Byleth began to absentmindedly flip through the pages. As he thought, the print was very tiny and he struggled to read it. “It will be most difficult to find the time to read all of this.”

Except Byleth would not. While he said nothing, Byleth had already decided that he was not going to bother touching this monster of a book again. It was too much of a headache to even read the first page, let alone the whole thing. It seemed like a waste of his time.

“However, I will go over the basics,” Seteth explained. Byleth was partially relieved by this; since that meant he would at least have something to go off of. “First and foremost, safety is our priority here at the Officer’s Academy. All combat practice must be done at the training grounds. In some cases, magic may be used for demonstrations in the classroom by staff, but otherwise it should be left to the training grounds.

“You cannot teach or supervise anything that you have not been certified in; this includes reason and faith magic, horseback riding, flying and even weapon forms you don’t have a complete grasp of. You can take a certification exam at any day during work hours; you just need to inform me a day ahead so I can arrange it for you.

“Since you start Monday,” Seteth continued, pausing a moment as he reached for one of the single sheets of paper from his desk. “We should set up your first certification exam tomorrow. What weapons are you most familiar with, proficiency wise, or are willing to be tested on?”

Seteth looked to Byleth as he held a quill in his hand, ready to write down Byleth’s answer on the paper. Byleth paused for a moment, thinking about what he would say.

“Swords, axes, lances,” Byleth listed off, he then paused for a moment. “And archery; those are what I have been trained in.”

Truth be told, his archery was a little rusty, but he figured he knew enough to pass at the very least. Seteth nodded his head in response to the information, and promptly wrote it down.

“What about horseback riding, brawling, or flying experience?” Seteth asked, pausing for but a moment. “We also have licensure exams for heavy armor expertise, reason and faith magic.”

“Horseback riding,” Byleth confirmed. His father made personally sure his own son knew how to ride a horse. It was a pretty critical necessity too, given their status of constantly moving about. Problem was the amount of horses needed for how large their band of mercenaries could get to be at times, and the accompanying expense. At most, they would only bring a couple of horses to individually ride, and use wagons for longer trips.

“Alright then,” Seteth said, nodding his head as he finished writing down the information. “Tomorrow you should head to the training grounds where you will take your certification exams from Jeritza. He will also go over rules of the Training Grounds with you. I will tell him today that you will be coming by.”

“If this Jeritza guy is already familiar and certified in what I do, and is already a faculty member of the academy. Why am I the one in the teaching position? Wouldn’t he be a more suitable pick?” Byleth asked with a blank stare as he crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair.

While Byleth had confidence in his abilities and suspected he may even be better than this ‘Jeritza’ guy in combat; it seemed plain as day that the other man was a better pick for filling the teaching spot. He was already familiar with the school, its rules, and the people there.

“Oh no, I agree. Jeritza would have made a much better pick than you, and far more practical.” Seteth replied bluntly, with a great sting in his words. “However, the archbishop says otherwise, and she has the final say in the matter.”

Byleth was not surprised by Seteth’s answer, as he did open himself up to that kind of response, but was still left unsatisfied with the answer.

“If I had to wager a guess,” Seteth paused, leaning back in his own chair. “As to why the archbishop chose you, I assume it would be two things. First and foremost, while Jeritza is very skilled in combat; he…lacks the grace and enthusiasm to be speaking and giving lectures to students. He is very diligent in what he does, but his social skills...well they make you look charming in comparison.”

Byleth rolled his eyes at Seteth’s sly remarks, but said nothing. Sothis, however, did choose to speak on the matter.

“What a rude man!” She exclaimed, floating above his desk as Seteth continued to remain oblivious to the fact. “Although he is not wrong, truth be told. After all, you do have the social grace and charm of a drunken skunk. Still though, such bold words; I guess he has quickly recovered from his humbled embarrassment from earlier.”

Byleth just continued to ignore her, although he could not help but get irritated at getting insulted from two people at once. Although he was not sure he understood what charm or social grace had anything to do with skunks, drunk or not.

“The second thing,” Seteth continued, folding his hands in his lap as he spoke. “And perhaps the most important reason; is that it is critical for our professors to remain faithful and protect their students; no matter the level of danger.

“Students come here from all across Fodlan, and in some cases even beyond the continent’s borders, to learn. They all vary in ages, but most students are adolescents, some even children. They and their families put their faith, trust, and very lives in our hands and we are to guide them to success.

“Our previous professor failed to do this.” Seteth admitted, there was shame in his eyes and lingering regret, and perhaps a shade of loathing, in his voice. “They abandoned their students and fled in the middle of battle. Had you, your father, and your father’s mercenary crew not arrived to save those students; they would likely have been killed. That would have been a great failure and shame on our part as educators; but would have also led to a colossal political crisis, as those students were the respective heirs of each of Fodlan’s nations.”

“Then why did you put them in a group together and why just those students? Why not send them off with more guards or staff?” Byleth interjected, genuinely confused. If it was such a politically delicate situation, he would have thought they would have been more careful. Putting three political heirs in one small group, with little to no bodyguard protection; was an assassin’s wet dream. The Church might as well just put big red targets on the students’ backs.

“One of the many Officer Academy traditions is to have the student leader of each third year house go on the first mission with the professor most suitable for the task; usually the battle tactics and combat instructor.” Seteth explained, sitting upright again and leaning forward into his desk.

“These missions, along with many others throughout the year, are one of the ways the Church, and the Officer’s Academy, gives back to the smaller local communities around the monastery. Missions are off-grounds assignments such as taking out bandits, protecting merchant caravans travelling through, and defending villages in need. Each professor leads a group of students on a bi-weekly basis on an assignment and is responsible for their safety as well as supervises their performance.” Seteth explained, drawing Byleth’s attention to one of the larger diagrams on his left wall, which had actually been a map marked with various mission requests.

“While dangerous,” Seteth admitted, his eyes casting downwards. “These missions allow students to have real combat experience in the field and put their practice into action. But it can be a rough experience for students at first. Many of them have never experienced true combat, have ever risked their lives, or seen death; let alone kill someone.

“To help ease that transition,” Seteth continued. “We have the leaders of each house go on the very first mission together. House leaders are students who have scored the highest across multiple subjects, both academic and practical. They are the students who are the most well-rounded of their peers, as well as the most experienced. ‘House leader’ is not just a title for namesake alone, it is earned and it is the expected role we give to select students.

“They are the first one to ‘break the ice’ of the first mission and will help lead their fellow students in future missions, as well as assist them with adapting to the new environment. This first mission also allows the professor to get more individually acquainted with the leaders of their students’ houses.

“The fact that all three of this year’s house leaders are heirs of their own nation, while not usual, is not surprising. They come from well-established and well-resourced backgrounds; so it is not a surprise to me in the slightest that they would have some of the overall highest scores.

“That being said,” Seteth paused for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was a large oversight and blunder to send all three of them off with limited support and back up.”

“No shit,” Byleth said, folding his arms. Sothis silently nodded in agreement. It was now Seteth’s turn to roll his eyes, and that he did.

“Truth be told,” he said calmly, trying to hide his irritation. “It was my oversight and blunder. This year had started off so chaotically that I completely missed the connection between the statuses of the three students. While I do not say this as an excuse for my actions, I tell you in hopes you’d understand. Initially, it was only two of the three houses that had heirs of their respective nation as their respective house leader.

“We had a last minute transfer student from the Leicester Alliance, Claude. Initially, the archbishop rejected the last minute admission, but due to certain circumstances, she eventually allowed it. House Riegan has been the leader of the Leicester Alliance for many years, and for a long time, it had no proper heir to take the handle of the house and the role of leader of the Alliance after the Duke’s son died. Then just last year, House Riegan claimed the boy as his legitimate heir, even though nobody had heard of the boy’s existence at all until then. This caused quite a political stir; apparently many nobles had already been making arrangements and deals towards whom would take over the helm of leader of the Leicester Alliance. Most notably, Count Gloucester was quite upset.

“Due to the fragile health of the current Duke Riegan,” Seteth continued. “And the fact that Claude himself will be coming of age soon; the duke made a large donation, along with Claude’s student tuition, to the Church in order to get his grandson to be academically prepared for taking upon the role. In efforts to ease the growing turbulent political climate of the Leicester Alliance; the Church was willing to make accommodations to accept the transfer.

“Which meant weeks of countless last minute tests and exams I had to prepare, give, and grade.” Seteth said, letting out a heavy sigh as he recalled the events. “We were prepared for many things, but for the boy, who prior to last year was never even heard of, to score so high and be able to transfer into the third year class and earn the house leader spot. Needless to say, it was not something we were prepared for.

“Initially, it was Lorenz, Count Gloucester’s son, who was supposed to have been the house leader for the Golden Deer house.” Seteth calmly turned to his right and pointed to a stack of documents on the floor, tied up with twine. “Those are all the very angry letters we have received from Count Gloucester after the news of the change was sent out.

“It has been…a very trying couple of weeks.” Seteth let out another heavy sigh and began to rub his temples slowly.

Byleth felt his eyes grow heavy as Seteth rambled on about silly political gossip. Byleth did not care what Lord So-and-So complained about or who got what scores; it wasn’t his business and he did not give a rat’s posterior. All this gossip about the students and their parents just bored him and made him want to take a nap.

“I do believe this man is just complaining now,” Sothis mumbled, and Byleth agreed with her. Byleth thought about saying something about it, but Seteth would just not stop talking, Byleth figured he might as well just let the man vent to someone, although Byleth wished it did not have to be him.

“The reason I tell you all of this,” Seteth stated. “Is so that you may understand the complexity of the backgrounds some of our students come from and will be going back home to at the end of the year. As a teacher, you will have a strong influence over the growth of your students academically as well as on a personal level.

“The Church of Seiros prides itself in remaining a neutral party and having no political allegiance or loyalties to any one nation. You will inevitably have a strong impact on the direction of your students’ lives and the shadows of influence they will eventually cast; whether large or small. It is important that you remain objective and neutral.” The sun shone a little brighter into Seteth’s office, a red, blue and yellow ray of light outlining his seat, emblematic of the church’s position.

“And on that note,” he said, suddenly looking quite uncomfortable. “I would like to speak of something else. Due to your age; I want to stress the importance of not getting too close to your students.

“Many students here will be very close to your age, some even older. I am absolutely confident that you will be very popular with the students. And due to the nature of living with people in such proximity for a year; you will most undoubtedly grow very close with some students. However, I cannot stress enough the importance of keeping a professional relationship with them in spite of this. You are here to teach and guide them; anything else is a distraction to this goal.

“This applies to the staff as well,” Seteth continued. “It is against the policy of the Church for staff to have non-professional relations with one another, no matter which division you work under; the faculty, maintenance, or the Knights of Seiros. This applies for all the staff to the students as well, even if the student themselves is of age; it is strictly prohibited.”

“So, don’t fuck them, is basically what you are saying.” Byleth bluntly interjected, not wanting to mince words, but mainly just trying to get under the other man’s skin, his boredom getting the better of him.

“Must you be so vulgar?!” Sothis chided him. “Honestly, you were not like this when I was around before. Now look at you, slewing such language all over the place. Filthy. I suppose it is an upgrade from shoving mud into your mouth.”

“Yes, in incredibly crass layman’s terms; ‘don’t fuck them.’” He painfully winced as he spoke that last bit. For a couple of seconds, there was a bit of awkward silence between them, as Seteth collected his thoughts. Byleth, for whatever reason, was suddenly feeling very bold; if not downright stupid.

“What about Flayn?” Byleth asked; his eyes carefully watching Seteth for his reaction.

“She is not a student or a staff member of the Church. Does that mean I can fuck her, Seteth?” The left side of Byleth’s lip soon cracked into a smile, leaving a smug expression on his face.

“Byleth, you damn imbecile!” Sothis cried out, floating just above both men. As she did so, she began to look worried; her eyes darting between both Seteth and Byleth rapidly. Byleth assumed she was worried that Seteth was going to attack him, and she was not wrong to be worried about that.

Initially, Seteth did not react. Byleth thought he may not have heard him at first, but soon found the table starting to shake ominously. Seteth’s face fell, distorted and twisted; Byleth could only describe his expression as 'pure rage.'

“You…” Seteth bellowed harshly, gripping the edge of the desk. A loud crunch could be heard as Seteth cracked the wood of the desk with his grip. “If you so much as look at her wrong-”

“Relax,” Byleth interrupted, leaning back in his chair once more, smug and surprisingly relaxed. “I don’t see your sister like that, nor do I ever want to. I just said that to piss you off. No fucking the students, no fucking the staff, no fucking Flayn; no fucking at the Church. Got it.”

“Byleth, you are playing with fire.” Sothis warned. “Do not push this man too far; we already have seen what he’s physically capable of.”

Byleth said nothing, however. While Sothis was right that he should not push his luck, he just couldn’t help himself. Boredom led great men to being fools.

Seteth stared at the other man intently, glaring at him as if he did not believe the younger man’s explanation. Byleth did not flinch under Seteth’s gaze, and merely retained his blank, emotionless stare. Byleth knew the man was capable of quite a lot of damage and destruction, but Byleth also knew Seteth had more to lose than Byleth if he lost his temper again. Leaning back in his chair, Seteth took a deep inhale and then sighed heavily.

“Oh. This is going to be a very long, arduous year.” He groaned and rubbed the temples of his forehead once more. Taking a minute to collect himself, Seteth then proceeded to move the folder that was sitting on his desk, towards Byleth’s direction.

“That is the previous professor’s records and analysis of the physical performances of the third year students so far.” Seteth said, as he began shuffling paperwork around. “I recommend using it and studying it; so you have a better idea of what each student’s strengths are and what to teach them.

“You will give lectures on Monday and Friday each week. In between those days, you will supervise combat training with an individual house on each day at the training grounds. Tuesday, you will supervise the Black Eagles, Wednesday you will supervise the Blue Lions, and Thursday you will supervise the Golden Deers.

“As professor, you will grade students based on their academic performance and physical performance.” Seteth continued. “You will be required to create exams based on your lectures and give them to students at various time intervals. You will also be responsible for conducting certification exams on the weapon or skill proficiency for each student. Each successful certification level accumulates grade points. By the end of the year, a student must earn a certain amount of grade points in order to pass; or they fail and have to come back another year.”

Byleth held back a desire to groan audibly as he listened to Seteth. That all sounded like work; annoying, tedious work that he hated doing. It was bad enough that he had to teach these brats, but he also had to do all this paperwork stuff too? Bleh.

“Outside of your required teaching time periods, you are free to spend your time on the grounds however you like.” Seteth said. “I personally would recommend that you spend time at the lectures of other faculty members, so that you can get better acquainted with what you are expected of as well as polish your own knowledge.

“You will also be responsible for the third year’s weekly chores.” Seteth continued. “Each week students must help out with certain duties of the monastery; usually cleaning or maintenance of some kind. There are eight different tasks and twenty-four students in the third year, so you will assign three students per activity.

“However, for your first week, you will not worry about this.” Seteth said, folding his hands once more. “Instead, I will cover for you. But starting the twenty-eighth you will be responsible for these duties. In the meantime, we need to get the paperwork settled out of the way. Today, you will need to go see Professor Manuela in the Infirmary and get your physical done. Tomorrow, you do your certifications exams, and Monday, you will give your first lecture.

“Sign these documents.” Seteth said curtly as he passed three documents to Byleth, along with his quill. “You are agreeing to the fact that I have given you a tour of the monastery grounds, have shown you the rulebook and informed you of the three places you can read it on your own volition, and that I have fully detailed the required duties you are expected for working here as a professor.”

Byleth hovered over the papers awkwardly as he began to aggressively squint at the print, struggling to find the place where he was supposed to sign. Fortunately for him, Sothis floated downwards and began pointing at the locations where he was supposed to sign. For the first time, Byleth was finding her lingering presence helpful. Byleth then handed Seteth the documents and the quill.

“Excellent,” Seteth said, collecting all of the items from Byleth. “Then we are done here. I will go ahead and bring the student records to your room sometime this afternoon; as I imagine you are hungry and will want to head to the Dining Hall straight away. Plus, there is still the matter of how to handle your…door situation.

“While it certainly has not been an easy first meeting,” Seteth stated as the two men stood, causing Byleth to stop in his tracks momentarily as he was to leave. “I wish you the best of luck in your new career path; as you will most certainly need it.”

“Where is the dining hall?” Byleth asked, ignoring Seteth’s backhanded remark, not giving the advisor the gratification of being correct, realizing he wasn’t quite sure where he was, or rather where anything was. The monastery was so damn huge and all the buildings looked the same, he wasn’t sure how to find anything, particularly from his current location.

“I showed you on our tour of the grounds.” Seteth answered, a hint of frustration in his voice.

“I forgot.” Byleth said as he stared blankly back at Seteth.

“Well, that is unfortunate.” He replied, pausing for a moment and then turning back to Byleth with a smile on his face. “Good luck, Professor Byleth.”

Seteth then promptly closed the door on Byleth; a loud click could be heard from the other side, signaling the door had been locked.

“I told you,” Sothis stated, hovering just above him. Byleth just stood awkwardly, gazing at both ends of the hallway he stood, trying to determine which end they came in from. As a loud growl came from his stomach, Byleth began starting to regret some of his previous actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to Dtale for beta reading this chapter. <3


	5. Let's Get Physical

Verdant Wind

Great Tree Moon

Chapter 5: Let’s Get Physical

====

_9/29, Year 1159_

_It was supposed to be a joyous occasion; the birth of his child. But Jeralt Eisner did not feel anything remotely close to ‘joy’ on this day._

_It was raining. The rain was damp, cold, and unusually heavy for that time of year. While Jeralt would have been annoyed with the presence of rain at any other time, today he was grateful. Grateful as the heavy rains poured down on the walls of the Garreg Mach Monastery, drowning out all other noises. With the rain, Jeralt did not have to hear the crying, the gossip about his recently deceased wife, and most of all, the hollowing silence; the damning evidence of the absence of her voice._

_As Jeralt gazed upon the sleeping infant in his cradle, he could not help but feel great anger. Why wasn’t she here? They were supposed to raise the child together. Why was he left behind to bear this burden alone? Why was his beautiful, radiant, joyful wife; the very light of his life gone while in her stead was this silent, hollow, pale imitation of her?_

_“Say something, please.” Jeralt begged the infant. But the child never said anything. It did not cry, it did not laugh, it did not scream; nothing. Just silence. Like a living, breathing doll._

_“DAMN YOU! CRY! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO CRY!” Jeralt cursed at the child, his eyes beginning to water. “All babies are supposed to cry; why can’t you do that one thing. Please, I beg you. I can’t bear this silence…” _

_Tears fell, but it was Jeralt who was crying, not the child. Despite all the frantic yelling of the father, the child remained silent; the only evidence of its continued life was its slow rhythmic breathing._

_“Captain Jeralt, I apologize for interrupting, but may I have a word?” Jeralt, shot his head up and quickly rubbed the tears out of his eyes. Just at the edge of the room, he saw the town doctor. This was one of the doctors by one of the local villages outside of the monastery, as the monastery only had nurses on standby. This man was supposed to be there for the baby’s delivery, but Lilith delivered earlier than expected and the doctor couldn’t make it in time._

_Jeralt was supposed to have been there, too._

_“Yeah, go ahead.” Jeralt said. He was not interested in speaking with anyone at the moment, but he figured the doctor could give him something useful; something to make sense of this nightmare._

_“It is about your child,” The doctor said, pointing to the infant. “Jeralt, that baby has no heartbeat. I have checked numerous times, but I hear nothing. He has a pulse, but there is no heartbeat.” _

_Jeralt stared at the man dumbfounded, as if he had spoken to him in Almyran or told him he had five heads. Jeralt took some moments of silence to think of what to say._

_“What does that mean, Doc?” Jeralt asked the other man. “What is wrong with that thing?”_

_“By all accounts; nothing.” The doctor explained, as he stepped closer to the infant in the cradle. “Aside from certain verbal and behavioral attributes most infants display; your child is healthy, it just has no heartbeat._

_“I would like to stress that I have spoken to the archbishop prior to you. She requested that I not report my findings to anyone else, including you. Normally, I would not protest against this, given the circumstances of your emotional distress right now. However, there is one matter that I am concerned with.” The doctor reached into the cradle and began to unbind the blanket that bundled the child. Lifting up the small gown the child was wearing, the doctor displayed the child to Jeralt._

_“As you know, I was unfortunately not able to be present for your wife’s labor,” the doctor said, tracing his finding under the gown with his finger for Jeralt. “I understand you were also not present for this as well. I do not know who exactly was involved for the delivery of the child, but I imagine those involved were few. Given the state of the child and…this, I felt it prudent to inform you; for your sake and the child’s.”_

_Jeralt gazed upon the infant as the doctor displayed him to his father. It did not take long to see what the doctor was referring to, and to understand the implications of what was being said, and unsaid. A large, singular scar line stretched down the child’s chest and lay right in the middle of it. As Jeralt stared at the scar, a great amount of anger began to swell within him. But not anger at the child or at the loss of his wife. No, this was anger at someone who he has known for a long, long time and thought he could trust._

_Rhea._

====

4/19, Year 1180

To say that Byleth was directionally challenged would be a grave understatement. Byleth never had a good memory, and there were days that it bit him in the ass. But today, it was downright insufferable. He spent a whole hour trying to find the Dining Hall, and never even found it. Sothis repeatedly badgered the young man to ask for directions, but Byleth refused. Whether it was out of pride, stubbornness, or fear of engaging in a conversation with a stranger; it was hard to say. Sothis simply concluded that he was a moron.

“Byleth, you dumb oaf; will you please ask someone for help?” Sothis begged him for the umpteenth time. The two of them were outside as Byleth continued to look for the Dining Hall. He was not sure quite where he was, as the buildings all looked the same, but they were near the fishing pond; which he did remember as being a key landmark near the Dining Hall. They were close…he just needed to figure out which building it was.

“If you do not eat, you will pass out.” Sothis explained, floating right in front of Byleth’s face. “Please do not pass out. That would be most embarrassing.”

Byleth tried to swat the girl away, but his hand just phased right through her. He was still not used to all of this and it was annoying.

“Byleth, please just go ask someone. There is no shame in it.” Sothis pleaded, she turned her gaze on a building right next to them. “Look, over there! That building looks familiar. Maybe it is the Dining Hall. If not, go see if someone can tell you how to get there.” Byleth nodded his head, agreeing that it was at least worth it to check it out. The building did look familiar to him as well; it stood out slightly from the others with it having two large panels of multi-colored stained glass for windows.

As Byleth stepped inside the building, he was greeted by a wave of warm air and a whole lot of green. This was not the Dining Hall; this was in the Greenhouse. Byleth found it to be much larger than it appeared outside. Vines, leaves, and various foliage could be seen crawling up on the columns that supported the building.

A large variety of plants were present at the Greenhouse. Some looked familiar to Byleth, mainly a select group of assorted flowers that he has seen before in his travels, usually the ones cut and sold in markets that were popular as gifts. But there was a surprisingly amount of exotic looking tropical plants as well; a lot of palm trees and unique foliage that Byleth never seen before.

Two of the exotic plants in particular stood out to him, as they were huge. They were two large flowers with a giant stem of some kind poking out in the middle, the whole plant nearly as tall and as wide as Byleth was. But as Byleth tried to approach one of the flowers to examine it closer, he suddenly got a whiff of the plant and nearly gagged. It smelled awful, like a corpse. He stepped away and the smell began to lessen, so it was most certainly coming from that flower. Byleth could only conclude that this place was strange.

“We should head back, there is nobody here.” She said, floating around double checking the perimeter, but there was nobody in sight. Byleth considered for a moment about leaving to find the Dining Hall, but it dawned on him just how warm it was in the Greenhouse. It was toasty; just the right kind of warmth to make for a perfect nap. As a yawn escaped from his lips, he was reminded that he could definitely use one right about now.

Taking extra care to stay as far away from the pair of stinky flowers as he could; Byleth picked a nice spot against the wall of the Greenhouse and sat right down. As he closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, he could hear Sothis’ protest, but failed to make out the words as he soon began to rapidly lose consciousness.

It was the sensation of cold water on his face that jolted Byleth awake. His body jumped slightly at the rude awakening; his eyes wide open and alert, taking a few seconds to adjust. As he heard soft chuckling above him, the shape of the person standing above him soon began to come into appearance; it was the Golden Deer House leader. He was the cowardly, rude kid that complained about Byleth protecting him instead of Jeralt during the fight against the bandits. What was his name again?

“Whoops, sorry about that.” The boy said, a smug grin plastered on his face. “You were so still that I mistook you for a flower.”

In the boy’s hand was a large watering can, what was supposed to be used on actual flowers. Byleth just glared at the boy as he wiped the water from his face, letting a low growl slip from his lips. Byleth just wanted to slap that cheeky smile right off his face.

“Woah, easy there tiger.” Claude said cautiously, laughing nervously. “Just a joke between friends.”

Byleth just grimaced and cocked an eyebrow at ‘friend.’ He was confused as to why the boy was chummy now all of a sudden.

“Why are you here?” Byleth asked, glaring at the boy. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sothis floating into view. She stood midair floating next to Claude, watching the exchange with mild curiosity.

“Helping out at the Greenhouse is my chore for this week.” Claude explained, motioning to the watering can. “Unfortunately for me, my classmates who were also assigned to help out didn’t show up so it’s just me…again.”

The boy let out a heavy sigh as he gazed off into the distance, probably thinking about his fellow students who ditched him.

“This is what happens when you decide to sleep in bizarre places.” Sothis explained, annoyed at Byleth. “You attract rude children who pour water on you.”

Byleth said nothing in return. Claude remained oblivious to the third person in the room.

“Anyway,” he said, turning back to Byleth. “You really shouldn’t stay here. If the Greenhouse caretaker lady finds you, she is gonna get mad. She hates it when students try to hide out and sleep here to skip classes.”

“But I’m not a student.” Byleth replied.

“No, you aren’t.” Claude agreed, placing the large watering can to the ground beside him. “But you do wear black like us and the old lady is blind as a bat. If you ever wonder why our vegetables and fruits look unusually lumpy and misshapen sometimes; it’s probably because she mistook one batch of plants for another again.”

Claude then proceeded to extend his hand out to Byleth. Byleth eyed both the boy and the gesture suspiciously, but in the end conceded; grabbing the other arm as Claude helped pull him up.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Truth be told, I actually did want to speak with you. I wanted to personally thank you for saving us yesterday, but I also wanted to apologize for my rude behavior too. I was scared, but I know I was a real rude jerk; especially considering you were helping us out.” He smiled, bowing his head slightly.

“Imagine my surprise, when that very person I was rude to, wound up becoming one of my teachers for the rest of the year. Talk about a terrible first impression, huh?” The boy laughed nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact.

“Anyway, I can understand if you are still upset about yesterday.” Claude said, crossing his arms.

“But, try not to hold it against me, okay? I’m not that awful most of the time, honest. Well...usually.” The boy then flashed another grin as he shifted slightly, trying to hide his nervousness. Byleth began to understand the boy’s sudden friendliness more now; he was concerned that Byleth would hold it against him as a teacher. While Byleth did not see himself as the type to hold it against anyone for the behavior, at least when it came to things like grading or evaluations; he did not blame the boy for being concerned.

But before Byleth could reply, a loud, strange noise could be heard between the two of them. It was Byleth, or rather, his stomach. Letting out a loud, ugly growl; his body protested against the unintentional hunger strike it was enduring. Thinking on it, Byleth realized he had not eaten in hours, and should really get on that.

“Oh, you’re hungry huh?” Claude asked. “Come to think of it I didn’t see you this morning at breakfast. You know where the dining Hall is, right?”

Byleth shook his head no, much to the boy’s surprise.

“Oh...Yeah, the buildings here do all look alike, but give it a week and soon you’ll know your way around the grounds. But in the meantime, how about I take you to the Dining Hall; in exchange for my behavior yesterday?” Byleth nodded his head yes in response.

“Finally!” Sothis exclaimed, letting out a frustrated sigh of relief. She did not seem to care for Claude, but was happy someone was finally helping Byleth out.

“Great! Then let’s head over there now, and we might be able to beat the lunch rush.” He proceeded to lock his left arm with Byleth’s right and began to lead the two of them out of the Greenhouse with a grin. Surprised by the disregard of personal space and practically being pulled by the boy; Byleth had to take extra caution not to trip over his own feet while trying to keep up with Claude’s pace. Sothis quietly followed them, floating faster than usual as to keep up with the two. What a strange day.

====

It did not take long for the two of them to arrive at the Dining Hall. Partially due to Claude’s fast pace, but also because the Dining Hall actually was not that far from the Greenhouse. Byleth could not help but admit to himself that Sothis was right. He should have just asked for directions from someone. But he would never, ever admit that to her while he still drew breath.

“So, here we are; just like I promised.” Claude said, the two of them standing just outside the Dining Hall together. “So, we good now? You’re not gonna hold it against me for yesterday?”

Verdant green eyes stared intently at Byleth, waiting for a response. Byleth paused for a moment, gazing at the boy with a blank expression as he began to think.

“You dumped water on my head,” Byleth retorted, crossing his arms. In truth, he was not particularly fazed by anything the boy did, whether it was yesterday or today. But, Byleth did find that he enjoyed watching the boy squirm uncomfortably at the thought of Byleth being mad at him; so he let Claude’s concern to fester.

“What?! That was barely more than a sprinkle. Come on, Teach, give me a break here.” Claude argued, his face looking quite dejected. After he finished whining, the boy let out a heavy sigh and paused for a moment as he thought to himself. Suddenly, his eyes lit up as an idea crossed his mind.

“How about this,” he stated, placing a hand on his hip, as he leaned to one side. “In exchange for the watering incident; I’ll let you in on a little secret about the Dining Hall. Who knows, it might even save your life.”

Confused, Byleth shot a look of disbelief at the boy. ‘Save his life?’ Really? The salvation bit had also attracted Sothis, who stopped drifting listlessly to listen in.

“It’s true.” Claude insisted. “Listen, whatever you do; don’t eat the Cheesy Verona Stew. The cooks may try to push it on you, but don’t listen to them. They may act sweet, but in truth they are cruel, deviant sadists. I don’t know what they put in it, but the results were catastrophic. Nearly a third of the student body was affected, and in the first week of school, too.”

“You speak as though it comes from personal experience,” Byleth assessed, a slight smirk etched on his face.

“Oh no, not me. I knew there was something wrong with it the moment I laid eyes on it. No, I did not suffer from the consequences; but my roommate, well he was not so lucky. Heh.” Claude assured him, a sly smile forming on his lips.

“Not everyone was like this though. Some of the students even like it; but to be honest, I question whether they’re even human. Or they must, at the very least, have ironclad stomachs.” Claude winces, thinking about the leader of the Blue Lions, no doubt.

“Let me just say this. If you don’t want to risk hot lava coming out of both ends; don’t eat the Cheesy Verona Stew. It is not worth the risk.” Byleth winced as he tried to erase the graphic image Claude placed in his head, but he promptly nodded his head in affirmation. Sounded like keen advice to heed.

“That is disgusting,” Sothis grumbled, crossing her arms. “He says this right before you are about to eat, too. How inconsiderate.”

While gross, Byleth could not help but think that it was a considerate gesture, in its own way. He would much prefer to know which foods are dangerous to eat rather than learning first hand.

“Fortunately, everything else is perfectly safe and edible. It isn’t good food, if you ask me, but it is decent, if not tolerable.” Claude said, gesturing towards the line in the Dining Hall.

“Let’s go get in line and get something to eat,” Claude continued, interlocking his arm again with Byleth. “You can even sit and eat with me and the other Golden Deer students. Come on, it’ll be loads of fun.”

“Thrilling,” Byleth wryly replied, sounding anything but thrilled. Claude proceeded to lead the two of them into the Dining Hall and Byleth remained ever so unnerved with how tactile the boy was. Byleth himself was not used to this kind of physical contact; he couldn’t help but feel like a fish out of water.

It did not take the two of them long to get through the Dining Hall line. The line ran against a long table, where food attendants stood behind and served out samples of various dishes. Silverware was spread out at the end of the table, and as Byleth reached for a plate and utensils, he was caught off guard how heavy they were. Byleth was used to using wooden bowls, plates, and utensils all of his life; to see such fancy things in large quantities was quite jarring.

Claude introduced Byleth as the new professor to the attendants, who proceeded to introduce themselves as well as informed Byleth that as a teacher; he could have as much food as he wanted. It was music to Byleth’s ears.

But as Byleth stared at all of his options, he found himself quickly overwhelmed. Never in his life had he seen so much damn food; at least not all at once. There were even some that Byleth could not recognize. In panic, Byleth just decided to ask for a little bit of everything, only really making sure he had extra pieces of bread.

Emerging from the food line, Byleth turned behind him, only to realize that he lost Claude. The Dining Hall was filled to the brim of people sitting, eating, and talking amongst one another. Byleth scanned the hall in confusion as he desperately searched for a place to sit, or the boy’s face. He began to move step towards the tables to get a better look, when suddenly he saw a familiar flash of yellow in the distance. A few tables away, Claude was waving at him, signaling to come over.

“Ah, professor! There you are! We’ve been looking for you.” A voice exclaimed. Byleth turned to his side and saw familiar faces. It was the Black Eagles house leader and the creepy goth boy that seemed to follow her wherever she went. In the corner of his eye, Byleth watched as Claude quickly scrambled towards their direction.

“We were hoping you could sit and eat with us today for lunch,” the girl explained, pointing towards a table with some spare seats open.

“There are some things I would like to talk to you about, and I am sure that the other Black Eagles would enjoy your presence as well.” Byleth opened his mouth to reply to the girl, but was soon interrupted.

“Sorry, Edelgard,” Claude said, out of breath from rushing over. He still wore a grin, despite his exhaustion. It confused Byleth. “Already called dibs. I was helping Teach out a bit earlier and now he’s gonna be eating lunch with the Golden Deers today.”

“If by helping,” Edelgard continued. “You mean dragging them around like a ragdoll; then yes you were. But our professor is not an object you can put your claims on; he can make his own decisions on where he wants to dine and who he wishes to dine with.”

“Hey, come on now,” Claude huffed, looking quite annoyed. “Teach already agreed to sit with us!”

“Did he really?” Edelgard questioned, folding her arms.

“Well, he didn’t say no,” Claude responded, shifting in place. “So basically the same thing.”

“No, it is not.” Edelgard replied firmly, glaring at the boy. Byleth opened his mouth to speak once more, but suddenly a flash of blue came from his other side and a voice interrupted him.

“Ah, professor!” Dimitri exclaimed, holding his own plate of food as he emerged from the Dining Hall food line. Dedue stood right behind him. “Have you not found a place to sit yet? You should come eat with the Blue Lions. We’d love to have you dine with us.”

“Oh no, not you too, Dimitri,” Claude groaned. Dimitri shot the other boy a confused look as Edelgard proceeded to shake her head.

“Claude, what have you done now?” Lorenz called out. He and Hilda had suddenly appeared behind Claude; the former looking quite suspicious and agitated.

“Nothing!” Claude protested. “I am just trying to get the professor to come sit with us for lunch, but their Highnesses are being a royal pain in the butt.”

“Watch your mouth, you cur!” Hubert hissed. As he stepped forward to intimidate the other boy, Edelgard pulled him back slightly for him to step down and Hubert obliged.

“Oh, that’s a great idea!” Hilda exclaimed, her face lighting up. “Professor, you should TOTALLY come sit and eat lunch with us. It’ll be loads of fun.”

“Or he could dine with the Blue Lions,” Dimitri countered. “That would be fun as well.”

“Besides,” Edelgard interjected. “I have my doubts that our professor would be interested in dining with you, Claude, considering your behavior yesterday. I doubt many would want to eat with a coward.” Edelgard proceeded to fold her arms and flash a smug smile at the other house leader.

“Claude, what is she talking about?” Lorenz inquired, glaring at the other boy intensely.

“It’s nothing, really.” Claude assured the purple haired boy. “I’ll tell you guys about it later.”

“Claude fled from battle and left Prince Dimitri and Lady Edelgard to fend for themselves against the bandits.” Hubert explained, glaring at the Golden Deer house leader. “What a disgrace.”

“Claude, how could you?” Hilda questioned, her face full of surprise and disappointment. “That’s just as bad as the previous professor leaving you guys behind!”

“Damn it, Claude!” Lorenz shouted, his face flushed with anger. Suddenly, the whole Dining Hall became a lot quieter as people began to stare at the scene unfolding.

“What you did disgraced not only the Golden Deer house, but the whole Leicester Alliance! If anything had happened to Dimitri or Edelgard, your actions would’ve put the whole Alliance’s diplomatic relations to shreds!” A heavy sigh could be heard from Claude in response.

“Prince Dimitri, you did not tell me of this,” Dedue stated, turning towards his lord. Dimitri simply raised a hand to calm his retainer. Dedue didn’t say anything, but proceeded to glare at Claude in a quiet rage.

“Okay, first of all, it was not the same thing as what our previous professor did.” Claude explained, crossing his arms as he spoke. “Second of all, I just did what anyone would’ve done in that situation. Heck, those two probably would’ve done the very same thing if I hadn’t beaten them to the punch.”

“That’s not true,” Dimitri replied. “In order for any battle to succeed, people need to depend on one another. You’re just using an excuse for your selfishness and cowardice.”

“I agree,” Edelgard said as Dimitri’s retainer agreed with a quiet nod, her gaze shifting from Dimitri to Claude. “I heard that in times of great strife, a person’s true colors will show. We’ll know exactly what to expect from the heir to the Alliance. How unfortunate.”

Byleth watched as Lorenz physically cringed at the statement; Hilda merely sighed and just left to return to the table to eat.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint your Highnesses, but I gotta say; I don’t believe either of you. I also stand by what I said previously; I don’t know anyone here and have no reason to trust anyone either. I don’t plan on dying any time soon and I will do whatever it takes to keep it that way. If that makes me a selfish coward, then so be it.” Claude wryly replied, his irritation and aggravation sheathed in a tight-lipped smile.

“But that’s beside the point,” he continued, sighing slightly as he turned towards Byleth. “So, Teach? What’s it gonna be? You can sit with Lord Buzzkill or Lady Funsucker. Or you can sit with me, the selfish coward. Entirely up to you.”

As the students in front of him waited patiently for his reply, Byleth suddenly realized how quiet the Dining Hall was. When he came in, the place was loud and a buzz of chatter and noise, but now; dead silence. He looked around and confirmed his fear; everyone in the Dining Hall was staring at them. All of the arguing had drawn the attention of the whole Dining Hall and they were probably listening for most of it.

Now, all eyes were on Byleth, eagerly waiting for his decision.

All eyes were on Byleth.

Shit.

Deciding that getting out as quickly as possible was for the best, Byleth briskly maneuvered between the students huddled around him and aimed for the closest exit from the Dining Hall until a stern voice broke out through the hall, giving him pause.

“No food outside of the Dining Hall!” Byleth recognized this voice, and quickly turned around. It was Seteth, who was sitting down at one of the tables, his sister sitting next to him. Byleth quickly realized that it must’ve been one of the rules he had forgotten or just failed to read.

Panicking, as the Dining Hall occupants continued to stare at him, Byleth walked towards a large basket for used dishes. He then proceeded to shove a ridiculous amount of bread in his mouth, his cheeks swollen and enlarged like a chipmunk with a mouthful full of nuts, and proceeded to place the plate still with the rest of the food in the basket, taking more bread in his hands.

“Hey, that’s wasteful!” Leonie cried out. Byleth didn’t bother reacting as he immediately ran for the door as soon as he could and left. He could hear Sothis yelling in protest as he did so, but he ignored it. He didn’t know where he was going, but he was certain that he didn’t want to stay there.

“Now look what you both did!” Claude exclaimed, quickly sighing to himself. Lorenz just shook his head at Claude and walked back to the table.

“Excuse me, but that was your fault.” Edelgard replied. Hubert nodded in agreement with her.

“How in the world did he fit all that bread in his mouth?” Dimitri wondered out loud, no longer engaged in the conversation with Claude and Edelgard with a gleam of interest in his eyes. Dedue just looked at his lord with an expression of concern.

“Your Highness, please…”

====

After the incident in the Dining Hall, all Byleth really wanted to do for the remaining day was to go hide in his room and sleep, but Sothis reminded him that he had to get his physical done today. Begrudgingly, Byleth agreed to do it and asked for directions this time; having learned from his earlier mistake. With the help of some local bystanders and Sothis; Byleth managed to find the Infirmary in decent time.

Stepping into the Infirmary, Byleth was surprised at how dark the room was, or at least, how much darker it was compared to what he was expecting. The room was only a bit larger than Seteth’s office in size. It had a handful of patient beds and a small table with a flower vase in the middle. In the right side corner was a wooden desk, as well as a disturbing anatomy dummy. The desk area was messy and cluttered, but the rest of the room was surprisingly rather neat and tidy. Byleth saw Manuela by her desk, and upon entering the room, she looked up from some papers.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said, with great disappointment. She let out a heavy sigh as she backed away from the desk and stood upwards. She pointed to one of the closest patient beds. “Sit there. Let’s just get this over quickly.”

Byleth was happy to comply, quickly walking over to the bed his colleague had pointed at and sat on the edge. Taking some supplies from a cabinet to the left side of the room, Manuela pulled up a chair from the table in the middle of the room and dragged it towards Byleth. Manuela opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of knocking by her door.

“Excuse me, Professor Byleth?” a voice spoke out, it was Professor Hanneman. Byleth could see his head poking out from the door of the Infirmary.

“Get lost, Hanneman!” Manuela barked. She shot a nasty look at the other professor who simply returned the favor.

“Shut it you vile woman,” Hanneman hissed, he turned his attention back to Byleth.

“I apologize about that, Professor Byleth. I just wanted to say, if you could come into my office when you’re done, I would greatly appreciate it. There is something I would like to discuss with you, in private.” Byleth nodded his head in reply.

“Behave yourself, Manuela.” Hanneman said as he closed the door. Manuela just rolled her eyes and muttered some words incoherently. It was something about “mangy, old fart” and a donkey. Byleth did not ask for clarification.

“Anyway,” Manuela spoke up, reaching for a sheet of paper and quill. “Let’s get the show on the road. I’ll be doing your physical today. It’s just a routine thing so it shouldn't be over too long. I’ll just need to ask you some questions and check your vitals.”

“I saw you with the third years at the Dining Hall earlier.” She said, looking at him. “You seem to be quite popular. I’ve never seen the students get so clingy to a teacher so quickly. The way they were squabbling over you reminded me of a pack of dogs fighting over a chunk of meat. Lucky you.” 

“Have you been sick at all this year?” she asked as Byleth squirmed a little, recovering from her previous comment.

“No,” Byleth replied.

“Have you had any broken bones or other traumatic injuries this year?”

“No,” Byleth replied again. Manuela proceeded to scribble on the paper.

“Are you sexually active?” Manuela inquired. Byleth glared at her, thinking the question was personal, considering her flirtatious personality. Manuela just sighed. “It’s a routine question, I have to ask. Just answer.”

“Yes,” Sothis piped up, floating absentmindedly above the two of them. She had not spoken a word since Byleth escaped the Dining Hall. Hearing her answer that question out of all things threw Byleth for a loop. Byleth stared up in confusion and bewilderment at the girl.

“Professor Byleth? Hello?” Manuela said, snapping her fingers to get his attention back. Byleth remembered that no one else could see her. He must have looked like a moron; staring up at nothing.

“Not recently.” Byleth murmured quickly, embarrassed to let himself get thrown off like that. He had a few one-night stands in between jobs in the past but Sothis wasn’t present for any of them. How in the Eternal Flames Sothis knew was beyond him, but he did not get the chance to ask.

“Of course,” Manuela muttered, sighing heavily as she scribbled down her notes. “Oh, so much is wasted on the young. They just don’t know how good they have it. Do you have any sexually transmitted diseases that you are aware of?”

“No,” Byleth said, slightly annoyed. The questions seemed unnecessary to the mercenary.

“Any family history of illnesses that I should be aware of?” Manuela asked, looking to Byleth nonchalantly. She seemed very bored.

“I don’t know.” Byleth replied. He did not remember his father ever getting sick before and Jeralt never spoke about family history at all, so Byleth was clueless.

“Great,” Manuela muttered as she scribbled her last note down, apparently annoyed. She turned towards Byleth and placed her hand on his forehead.

“No fever,” she noted, writing down once more in her notes. She pulled out a small hammer from her bag of supplies.

“So, I guess your father isn’t single, is he?” Manuela asked, as she tapped the hammer at Byleth’s knee. “Such a fine, handsome man like that problem has all sorts of women at his door.”

Byleth’s lower leg shot up in response and both the reflex and Manuela’s words, the reflex causing him to kick the hammer out of the nurse’s hand. He quickly recovered and caught the hammer with his hand, holding it out to her.

“He’s single...as far as I know,” Byleth murmured awkwardly. He quickly regretted his words as Manuela’s face lit up like a spark in the night, reclaiming her hammer.

“Really?” she inquired eagerly; her eyes were practically sparkling with excitement. “Oh my, how wonderful—I mean, tragic. Truly tragic. Such a fine man he is, why it’s so sad he doesn’t have a partner to truly appreciate him.”

Manuela tapped Byleth’s other knee before placing the small hammer back in the bag and scribbled down her notes once more.

“Look here,” she said, placing her index finger straight in front of his face. Byleth directed his eyes towards it and as she moved her finger up, down, and side-to-side; Byleth’s eyes followed suit.

“Where is your mother?” she asked, writing down more notes on her paper. “And I forgot to ask, do you have any allergies?”

“This woman is relentless,” Sothis murmured. Byleth agreed with a slight nod.

“My mother is dead and no, I don’t have any allergies.” Byleth was growing tired of these questions and found this woman to be a real annoyance.

“Excellent. Oh, I mean that you have no allergies. Sorry about your mother.” She explained, although Byleth knew better and merely rolled his eyes. She reached in her bag of supplies and pulled out a stethoscope.

“A kind, loving mother figure in your life might be beneficial.” Manuela continued, placing the ends of the stethoscope in each ear and lifting his shirt. “How do you feel about having a stepmother?”

“Don’t want one,” Byleth quickly and bluntly replied. Manuela just scowled and clicked her tongue in response, placing the stethoscope’s resonator over his chest, the metal piece covering his scar from her.

Byleth flinched as the cold metal touched his skin. Manuela remained quiet as she listened and began to probe various spots on Byleth’s chest. She removed the stethoscope from under his shirt and stood up, going behind Byleth and proceeding to listen for a heartbeat through his back. After a few more minutes of exploration, she retracted the device and removed it from her ears.

“How strange, you seem to have no heartbeat.” Manuela said, looking quite confused.

“What does that mean?” Byleth asked, mildly worried. He only had a rudimentary mercenary’s experience in the medical field, but having no heartbeat sounded concerning.

“It means….you’re heartless!” Manuela answered gravely. Byleth stared at her in shock for a few moments until she eventually cracked a smile and chuckled to herself.

“Oh, I’m just kidding Professor,” she said, tossing the stethoscope in a nearby trash can. “It means that the Monastery needs to get me better equipment. It’s all old so it probably just needs to be replaced. You have a heartbeat, everyone does.

“I will just have to find your heartbeat another time,” she continued, looking at Byleth. “Otherwise, we’re done here.”

“Is that it?” Byleth inquired. While he did not want to be there, he did want to make sure she followed proper procedure to examine him. He expected something more involved.

“Yup, so time for you to scram and get lost.” Manuela said, making a swift shooing motion with her free hand. “Oh, and make sure to go see Hanneman for whatever he needs, or he’ll never shut up about it. Dumb old geezer.”

Byleth nodded and stood up from the patient bed, making his way to the door with Sothis behind him. As he opened the door, he heard Manuela speak once more.

“Professor Byleth, one last thing,” she spoke up. Byleth turned behind him and faced her direction. “Do take some time to open your heart to the idea of a stepmother. I know it’s hard to grow up without a mother, but you should know there is a perfectly good maternal figure standing before you. The two of us can work together to make up for all the motherly bonding time you’ve been missing out on! Not to mention, I make great pancakes.

“Be a dear and put in a good word about me to your father. I’d really like to make some pancakes with him, if you catch my drift.” She flashed a wink to Byleth’s direction, and Byleth had to restrain himself from retching on the spot.

“Not in this life,” Byleth flatly replied, firmly slamming the door as he left.

====

Byleth did not waste time finding Professor Hanneman’s office. Today had been far too long and he was eager to get all of his necessary errands completed. As he entered the room, he stood in front of a familiar room. Professor Hanneman’s office was strikingly similar to Seteth’s; the only difference being the left side of the room. Instead of one large board, Professor Hanneman’s had two; one of them being a chalkboard. It did not take long for Professor Hanneman to notice Byleth’s presence.

“Ah, there you are!” he exclaimed, looking up at Byleth from his desk. He pushed aside a small stack of documents to the side, and stood up from behind the desk.

“Thank you for coming in. I hope my colleague hasn’t been proving too…overwhelming.” He paused at the end, and cautiously glanced towards Byleth. Byleth said nothing but merely looked uncomfortable at the mention of the other professor, to which Hanneman did not miss.

“I see,” he said, moving from behind his wooden desk towards the younger man. “Well, I assure you that despite her tendencies toward…lucrative behavior; Manuela is quite skilled at her job and is a good colleague. She is just prone to falling heavily into her vices. Why, if she could just execute more discipline and reign herself in …who knows what she could accomplish!

“But that is enough about her,” Hanneman continued, turning his attention toward Byleth.

“The reason I’ve called you today is that I believe you have a crest, and I would like to scan for it on my Crest Analyzer right by your feet.” The older man pointed to a large circular pad on the floor, as Byleth took a step back, not realizing he had nearly stepped on something important.

“What’s a crest?” Byleth asked, watching Sothis as she silently floated over to the far board against the wall, covered in sheets of paper with strange markings on it. She began staring at the markings with great interest, ignorant of the old professor.

“You don’t know what a crest is?!” Hanneman replied, visibly shocked by the news. Byleth just stared at the older man as he held back a great urge to be snippy. Why would Byleth ask what it was if he knew the answer? When Hanneman realized that Byleth was being serious, he began to speak again.

“Well, that is truly surprising.” Hanneman murmured, slightly dumbfounded. “But no matter, I will give you a quick rundown of crests and their history, albeit the brief version.

“Crests are essentially an accumulation of power. It is said that they were bestowed by the goddess to humanity ages past. They exist within the flesh, and are passed down through bloodlines. Those with crests are often skilled in magic, physical strength, or perhaps a number of other boons. Each crest has its own unique power, and when activated, a sigil will appear on the skin. Crests can show up on numerous places of the body, and so one could theoretically go for years without realizing they had a crest.” The professor explained, tapping his right hand, the location of his own Crest of Indech.

“While crests are passed down through the bloodline, they are not guaranteed to show up on all of the descendants of someone who bears a crest. You need to be descended from someone who had a crest to have one, but it need not be someone directly related to you. In the bloodline, crests are rather rare and what exactly triggers their individual appearance remains a mystery.” He contemplated, turning back to his desk.

“But as it stands, I do believe you have one; or rather, you may. The only way to confirm or deny it is if we scan you via my Crest Analyzer. I assure you, the test is harmless and painless. You may feel a slight tingling sensation, but that is merely the magic activating your crest. If you would, please go ahead and stick your hand out and over the device.” Hanneman eagerly gestured towards the device on the floor, stepping back slightly as to give Byleth space to use it.

Byleth grimaced as he stared down at the device. He understood the directions and the reason why it was to be done, but the whole thing seemed strange. Byleth did not feel safe activating the device, but he had a feeling that he would just be pestered to death if he refused. Slowly extending his left arm, Byleth held it over the small circular device. Suddenly, the circular pad began to light up; a large purple light shot up from the pad and created a purple orb. Inside the magical orb was a strange sigil, similar to the ones on the wall that Sothis was looking at.

“By the goddess!” Hanneman exclaimed, shocked and taken aback by the sight.

“I’ve never even seen such a crest like that before! What in the wor--” Suddenly, he turned to Byleth and quickly took his wrists and began to inspect them.

“Where did you feel it?” He questioned, pulling back the sleeve of Byleth’s coat as he tried to inspect his arm. “The tingling sensation? It could also be a numbing feeling instead, or maybe a slight burning sensation.”

“I didn’t feel anything,” Byleth replied, slightly annoyed at the older professor’s sudden handsyness.

“Oh, heavens,” Hanneman sighed, his eyes gazing off to the side. He quickly turned around and began to pace back and forth in odd directions, deep in thought. He abruptly stopped and turned towards Byleth.

“You must take off your clothes,” he insisted. Byleth’s eyes widened in shock at the request and was taken aback in shock.

“What did he just say?!” Sothis exclaimed, snapping her attention now towards the two men after being absorbed into the sigils against the wall. She quickly floated towards Byleth’s direction.

“Do not do that! Do not take off your clothes!” Byleth just looked nervously between the two as he struggled to understand the situation.

“I know it’s an odd request,” Hanneman continued. “But please, Professor Byleth I must insist. You are a very unusual case and this could be a groundbreaking discovery for my work! I absolutely must know where your crest is located! Now hurry, please!”

The peer pressure from the older man led Byleth to quickly begin to remove his boots, fumbling awkwardly as he did so.

“What are you doing?!” Sothis yelled frantically. In truth, Byleth could ask the same question. As he began to take off his jacket and pants he started to question how on earth did he get to this situation? What was Hanneman up to? Suddenly, a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Hanneman you old goat! If you don’t keep the noise down--”Manuela said, as she quickly opened the door and entered the room. “Hey! You didn’t take your clothes off for me! That’s not fair!”

Byleth flinched at the recognition of her voice. He had his back turned against the woman, so he could not see her face, but he could only imagine her expression. Oh, why did she have to barge in now of all times?

“Be quiet, Manuela!” Hanneman angrily hissed, turning back to Byleth, his expression softening immediately.

“Professor Byleth, please continue. Do not let this foul, vulgar woman distract you from finding your crest!” He shot an angry glare at the direction of his coworker.

“For once I agree with you, you old fart,” Manuela replied. “Please, Professor Byleth, do continue. I would just hate to interfere with…science.”

As Byleth began unbuttoning his shirt, he could hear Professor Manuela chuckling to herself, and he began to rapidly regret ever coming into Hanneman’s office.

With the last button undone, Byleth removed his shirt and tossed it into the pile of clothes he had made to his side. All that was left on him was his white boxers and socks; the former which he refused to take off. Sothis just shook her head at the sight, although Byleth could see she was slightly worried; most likely concerned at how far this whole thing would go. He shared the sentiment, but tried not to show it.

“Now isn’t this a lovely view,” Manuela purred, still standing some distance behind him.

“Looking good, Professor Byleth.” As more chuckles could be heard, Byleth continued to ignore the older woman and her provocative comments. The minute he could get out of here; he was gone.

“Alright, that is good enough,” Hanneman stated, he gestured to the device once more.

“Now, please turn around and stick your hand above the device once more. Manuela, make yourself useful and help me find the crest mark.” The nurse in question let out a loud groan of agitation, but agreed to help with the task.

Taking a deep breath, Byleth turned around and shot his arm above the device; a familiar purple light quickly lit up and the familiar sigil appeared again in the purple orb. Byleth could hear Hanneman mumbling to himself as he tried to find Byleth’s crest mark on his back side. Manuela, in the meanwhile, was busy staring at his front; specifically, his lower extremities. 

“By the goddess,” Manuela murmured in awe, her eyes not daring to leave the spectacle that was Byleth’s ‘family jewels.’

“Manuela, did you find it?!” Hanneman exclaimed, quickly rushing towards Manuela’s side.

“Oh, I found it alright.” Manuela replied in a husky tone. Her face began to flush, her eyes lit up, as a coy smile emerged on her lips. She folded her arms slightly; lightly biting on the nail of her thumb.

“I can’t believe it,” Hanneman murmured, his eyes affixed to Byleth’s chest. Byleth followed his gaze and saw the same sigil he saw on the device, now lit up in the middle of his chest. Byleth was rather shocked at the sight, having never seen the mark before. Had he truly not triggered the power of the crest or had he just not noticed it all this time?

“T-This-this changes e-everything!” Hanneman stammered, looking quite pale and distraught.

“All my years of research and thesis building; gone! What do I even do now?!” He began to rapidly pace back and forth once more.

“Oh, it does change everything indeed.” Manuela said, slowly approaching the half-naked young man.

“Professor Byleth, I was so very wrong about you. I had no idea how… talented and blessed you are! So, very, very… blessed. By the goddess herself.” She managed to interlock her arm between Byleth’s right arm and clung to it affectionately. Her eyes began shifting between gazing at his crotch and his chest.

“That woman is a fiend, Byleth. Be careful!” Sothis hissed. Sothis was right, but Byleth had no idea how to get the older woman off of him because he himself was stuck frozen in place. He could not get himself to move.

“For a new crest to show up now, and at that location of all places…” Hanneman murmured, greatly deep in thought. He dashed to his blackboard and began to scribble down some kind of note. The older man seemed to ignore his two coworkers for the moment.

“You know Professor Byleth,” Manuela spoke again, batting her eyelashes as her voice began to soften. “Forget what I said before; instead of a motherly bond, we should strive for a relationship on a more… intimate scale, don’t you think?

“On the other hand, if you’re into it; I can play both roles. I can be whatever you want, whoever you want; whenever you need me. You may be young, sweetie, but the chemistry and connection between us is undeniable!” Byleth began to shiver and sweat as Manuela began to stroke the back of his hair and hum a tune.

“Byleth, it is time to go, now! This woman is dangerous!” Sothis exclaimed, flailing her arms around as she floated in front of him. Byleth could only nod in agreement with her, but try as he might, Manuela had a surprisingly strong grip and wouldn’t let go of his arm. Byleth was about to say something about it when Professor Hanneman suddenly interrupted him.

“No! I can work with this!” he exclaimed, rushing to his wooden desk to reach in for some supplies.

“I will have to make some amendments most likely, but that is okay; the research must continue!” He pulled out a small knife of some kind, and a small stone bowl. He quickly walked towards his two coworkers, and did not comment on Manuela’s behavior or recognize the personal boundaries she was trampling across. Instead, Hanneman turned his attention to Byleth, his monocle gleaming ominously.

“Professor Byleth, I’m going to need to ask you one last favor.” He said, motioning towards the tools in his hands. “I’m going to need to take a blood sample from you. It will only be a small incision. We’re going to need to run a lot of tests on you and possibly collect more blood later. Oh, this is so exciting! What a fascinating discovery!

“Manuela, hold him still and steady now.” Hanneman ordered, not waiting for Byleth’s audible consent. Byleth soon began to process Hanneman’s words and began to panic. Hanneman was holding a knife, a small knife but still a knife. And he wanted blood; Byleth’s blood?! Byleth’s breathing began to increase rapidly as he started to sweat and look around the room for a way out.

“Byleth, that is a knife! A knife! That is going to hurt; they are going to hurt you!” Sothis cried out. She was beginning to panic too, as she watched the scene unfold. To her dismay, she could not help him; powerless in her ethereal form.

“Don’t worry sweetie, you can hold on to me real tight if you’re scared.” Manuela cooed, as her grip on Byleth’s arm got tighter; Byleth could not budge an inch. Hanneman began to slowly walk towards the two of them, bowl and knife in hand, and with each step the older man made Byleth began to panic more. Byleth stared at the knife in horror, and saw light reflecting off the small blade.

“Byleth, this is a trap! You need to run! RUN!” Sothis shouted.

As Hanneman finally got just within reaching distance, instinct finally kicked in for Byleth. He shot a kick towards Hanneman right in the abdomen, sending the man flying backwards and against the wall. Surprised by the sudden act of violence, Manuela released Byleth’s arm for a brief moment as she ran to her fallen coworker.

“Hey, what the--!” she cried out, quickly heading towards Hanneman to check on him. The older man groaned audibly, but seemed to sustain no physical injuries; ones that could be seen at least. Byleth felt a twinge of guilt but after he remembered what was going on, he realized he needed to leave. Now.

Quickly grabbing his pile of clothes, Byleth quickly dashed out of Professor Hanneman’s office and into the hallway. Running at full speed towards the direction that looked the most familiar, Byleth found the grip of his feet off and realized he forgot his boots in Hanneman’s office. He suddenly stopped, but the stone floor was surprisingly slick and Byleth nearly slipped. He briefly considered going back to get his boots, but a pair of voices suddenly broke out.

“Professor Byleth, come back! I really need that sample!” The older professor croaked, still yet to fully recover.

“Oh, sweetie there is no need to be scared! Mama Manuela is here! Don’t run away!” The nurse sang in a melodic tone.

No, he could not go back for his boots. He thought about going to his room to get his things, but he did not have time for that either. He just needed to leave this place; leave the whole damn monastery right now. He would just have to explain it to his father later. Surely, Jeralt would understand.

“Byleth, this way!” Sothis exclaimed, pointing towards a staircase. Byleth quickly followed her direction and ran down the stairs. “Byleth, slow down you are goin--”

But it was too late; Byleth had forgotten about his slippery socks and suddenly found himself falling down the flight of stairs head first. Suddenly, a bright green light enveloped around him and Byleth found himself at the top of the stairs once more. He turned to Sothis who held the familiar green orb in her hand.

“Go slower this time, you fool!” Sothis hissed, and Byleth nodded, silently thankful for Sothis saving him. Going at a swift pace but being far more careful this time; Byleth shuffled down the flight of stairs and reached the bottom level.

Two knights made an audible gasp as Byleth came into view, and stared at him with their mouths agape. Byleth was confused by their shock for a moment, before he realized he still had no clothes on. He had nothing but his boxers and socks; showing off far too much for the members of the Church. Looking down at the clothes in his hands, he thought about putting them on when suddenly—

“Professor Byleth! Come back!” Hanneman and Manuela cried out. He could hear their voices ring out from the staircase and knew they were not far behind; and they were most definitely still pursuing him. Panicked, Byleth just bolted in a random direction, running at top speed. He had no idea where he was, but he could not afford to stop to ask.

Busting through a large set of heavy doors, Byleth soon found himself outside. He quickly looked around, but struggled to find anything that looked familiar to him. Sothis was busy looking for a way out as well, but struggled for an answer. Suddenly, Byleth heard the faint sound of a familiar, obnoxious voice that he knew very well. Running at full speed towards a row of buildings, Byleth followed the sound of the voice to one room in particular.

Standing at the doorway, Byleth peered inside to see the familiar layout of the Lecture Hall, where he saw Seteth giving a lecture to the third year students. This was most certainly a scenario from Byleth’s nightmares coming to fruition; but he had little options. Ragged, red faced, and out of breath; Byleth just stood silently as he made very large, swinging hand motions in attempts to silently get Seteth’s attention without alerting the whole class.

“Now, I must stress the importa--what in the world?” Seteth suddenly stopped in the middle of his lecture, as he stood in shock at the sight of Byleth. “By the goddess, what are you doing?!”

Byleth watched in horror as all third year students turned their heads in unison in his direction; and never before did Byleth want to leave this mortal plane. His plan did not work, and worse than that, had greatly backfired. There was a sea of audible gasps, some chuckling, some whistling, and a few ‘nice’ comments ringing out from the third year students. This was bad. This was really bad.

“I-I…I w-was…” Byleth stammered, completely flushed and out of breath from running around. He was sweating like crazy and looked awful. Byleth tried to speak coherently but could not get his breathing under control, stealing glances out the door every now and again, cautious of his pursuers.

“Professor Byleth, why are you not wearing your clothes?” Seteth asked, sounding very concerned and very, very tired.

“Students, look away!” But none of the students budged; eager to know the story as to why their new professor was in nothing but his smallclothes.

“I-I…was…with…M-Manuela…and--,” Byleth stammered, but suddenly fell silent as Seteth’s face suddenly got very red and contorted.

“M-Manuela?!” the advisor exclaimed, quite flustered about the topic.

“I-I told you that was against the rules!” Seteth reprimanded as Byleth watched as a few other students made audible gasps and giggles. Byleth stood dumbfounded and confused at what was so embarrassing in particular; when suddenly it dawned on him what they were probably thinking.

“No-no-no!” Byleth cried out, his face getting redder by the second. Oh, it was bad enough that he looked like this, but for them to think he and Manuela…?! This was truly a terrible day.

“Hanneman was there too!” Byleth explained, hoping he could rectify it somehow.

“Hanneman, too?!” Seteth gasped, jumping to conclusions again.

“Byleth, it has not even been a full day yet, and you are already--with both of your coworkers?!” More audible noises emerged from the students watching the scene before them. Byleth just let out a heavy groan as the other man continued to twist his words. This was not going anywhere.

“Professor Byleth!” The familiar voices rang out. Byleth could see Hanneman and Manuela in the distance, and his heart began to race once more. With time being the essence once again; Byleth bolted off in a random direction, Sothis floating behind him with great speed, trying to direct him to the right way.

====

Seteth has seen many wild, rambunctious behaviors during his time at Garreg Mach Monastery and the Officer’s Academy; but never in his life had he seen something quite like this. Here, at their prestigious academy, was one of their own professors running around in their small clothes. To say that Seteth was shocked would have been a great understatement.

As Professor Byleth suddenly ran off, the students began to erupt in loud chatter. They had been talking since Byleth had interrupted their lecture, but Seteth had been so distracted by the disturbed new professor that he had not had the time to reign in his class back in order.

“Settle down, everyone.” Seteth stated loudly. “I realize this whole spectacle, has caused quite a stir and I do humbly apologize for the distraction, but we should really get back to--”

“Shouldn’t we go help Professor Byleth? He seemed quite distressed.” Dimitri said. The student leader of the Blue Lions was rather obedient when it came to rules and authority, but there were times Seteth found that he would push the envelope when it came to emotionally charged situations.

“Shouldn’t you go after Professor Byleth?” Edelgard remarked, gesturing towards Seteth.

“It seems irresponsible for a faculty member as yourself to let such behavior go unchecked. The man is clearly disturbed, to say the least.” As the white haired girl glared at him, Seteth was reminded how something about Edelgard always…felt off. She never challenged authority or rules directly, but there was always something in her body language that felt unusually hostile, but Seteth did not have the free time to pinpoint what it was.

“Hey, uh, can I be dismissed?” Claude asked, lifting his hand up but not waiting to be called.

“Teach running around half-naked is the funniest thing I’ve seen all week.” An echo of students requesting to be dismissed rang out with the Golden Deer house leader, and Seteth had to put in extra work to keep himself calm in times like this.

“No, nobody will be leaving.” Seteth explained. “One of the knights will most certainly assist Professor Byleth with whatever he’s going through, but everyone else; you must sit down as we are going to continue cla--”

“Where did Professor Byleth go?!” Hanneman exclaimed, the first of two familiar faces to the students in the lecture hall, out of breath and drenched in sweat from running.

“You just missed him,” Sylvain replied, flashing a playful grin.

“He went that way!” Hilda said, pointing in the direction the new professor had run off to. Both senior professors nodded their heads in understanding, but instead of leaving, Manuela’s face suddenly lit up.

“Ten points of extra credit to whoever can bring me Professor Byleth!” she cried out, her hair a mess and her face flushed from the dash.

“I’ll give you fifteen points!” Hanneman shouted. Manuela and Hanneman both exchanged dirty looks with one another and then came to the same conclusion.

“TWENTY POINTS EXTRA CREDIT TO WHOEVER CAN CATCH PROFESSOR BYLETH!” They both shouted in unison.

And just like that, Seteth lost whatever control of the class he had left. In less than two seconds all of the third year students jumped from their seats and began running towards the exit of the Lecture Hall.

“Hey, come back here!” Seteth shouted, trying to stop them, but his efforts were futile.

“No running on the grounds!” None of the students listened to him though, and soon it was just him left in the lecture hall. Realizing there was no point in not joining the fray and trying to end the madness as soon as possible, Seteth too quickly left the lecture hall and chased after the students. As he did so, he began cursing the day that the fool of a professor joined their academy.

====

Having managed to have briefly lost the other professors again, Byleth took a moment to take a break and catch his breath. He wasn’t quite sure where he was, in some kind of weird garden area. Seteth did not show this place on the tour. Had it been any other moment other than this one, Byleth would have found the place quite nice. Instead, he loathed the place. He could not see anything above the stupid garden wall hedges. He needed to come up with a plan. He was not going to last long at this rate, as the other professors knew the lay of the land better than he did.

“Byleth…” Sothis murmured, peering over slightly in the direction from where they came from.

“Not now, Sothis. I need to think.” Byleth said, rubbing his forehead as he tried to think of how the hell he was going to find the exit to this damn place. The Marketplace, he just needed to get to the Marketplace, but where was that again?

“Byleth!” Sothis said again, this time with more urgency and concern in her voice.

“What?!” Byleth harshly whispered, and Sothis just motioned him to come over to her direction. Byleth complied and discreetly peered out from the side of a large garden wall hedge. There, he saw it.

Like a raging stampede, he saw as the whole class of the third year students were running all over the place, looking for something; or someone. Professor Hanneman and Professor Manuela were leading them, the students were no doubt looking for him.

“They’ve sent the little ones after you!” Sothis cried out.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Byleth hissed to himself. This was bad. It was bad enough that he was running from those two knuckleheads of teachers; but the whole third year student body? Throwing all hopes of plans and strategy to the wind, Byleth just ran. Running away from the direction of the students approaching him, Byleth dashed across the garden area and found himself suddenly in a familiar area.

It was the Knight’s Hall and the Stables. He saw a pair of knights stare at him, but as Byleth was about to ask them for directions, he suddenly heard shouting from the third year students. Realizing they were much closer than he was prepared for, he ditched his plan to ask the knights for help and sprinted for the Stables. Finding an empty, and fortunately clean, stall; Byleth crouched down and remained silent as he hid, trying to throw on some of his clothes.

“Byleth, you cannot just hide here! If they find you, you will be stuck here and you will be cornered with nowhere to run.” Sothis exclaimed, and Byleth knew she was right. But right now he could not think of anything else. He hoped at the very least it could buy him some time and a moment to breathe.

“Professor, is that you?”

Byleth shot his head up through his undershirt as he saw three familiar faces stare back at him; it was the three student house leaders. Remembering that the other students were tasked with finding him, Byleth was about to jump up and start running again when Dimitri stopped him.

“Professor Byleth, please calm down. We are not here to hurt you or turn you in.” The blonde boy had a surprisingly gentle tone in his voice, and Byleth couldn’t help but feel slightly eased by it, perhaps because he was already familiar with the three of them.

“Please teacher, get a hold of yourself.” Edelgard chided him. “This manner is most unprofessional of you and is quite embarrassing. At the very least, please put on your clothes.”

Realizing that he still had not put his clothes back on, Byleth began to haphazardly try to button up his shirt, but was struggling to do so.

“Hey Teach, did you fuck Manuela?!” Claude asked, flashing a wide cheeky grin.

“No!” Byleth hissed, fumbling with his buttons on his shirt. Claude just laughed at the response, and Byleth wanted to kick him.

“What on earth happened?” Dimitri asked.

“Hanneman wanted to scan me for a crest,” Byleth whispered. “He found one on my chest and went nuts about it. Took out a small knife and wanted to take a blood sample from me. I freaked out.”

“And Professor Manuela?” Edelgard inquired. “Why does she want you so badly?”

Instead of a reply though, all three men just stood there silently looking at Edelgard, as if she should know the answer.

“What?” Edelgard asked, genuinely confused.

“Professor Manuela can be…overwhelming sometimes. I thought you’d already know.” Dimitri murmured, trying to put it as nicely as he could.

“Professor Manuela isn’t that bad, really.” Claude said, smirking to himself. “She’s all bark, no bite; unless you bark back, in which case she’ll take that as an invitation.

“My guess is,” Claude continued, sneaking a not-so-subtle glance at Byleth’s crotch. “She saw a good look at the Eisner family goods and went wild at the smell of meat.”

“Hey, hey!” Byleth hissed, snapping his fingers at eye level. “Eyes up here, funny guy.”

He shot a glare at the boy, who merely returned a smile in kind.

“Relax,” Claude said, smiling to himself. “I’m not into nudists. I prefer it when there is a little left to the imagin--Ow, ow, ow!”

Suddenly, Claude found himself at the mercy of Byleth who had taken upon himself to pinch the boy by the nose. After a few cries of ‘uncle,’ Byleth let him go with a flick on his forehead, satisfied with the haphazard state of his shirt, moving onto his pants.

“So violent,” Claude groaned, rubbing his nose gently. But despite his words, his eyes suggested that he was intrigued, if not entertained by the reaction.

“Perhaps if you could learn to contain yourself you would get more favorable responses.” Edelgard said, but Claude merely shrugged her off. He was having fun and there was no harm done. There was a brief moment of silence between the four of them when suddenly a voice rang out.

“Hey, anybody in here?!” a student cried out, as they stepped in the stables. The three house leaders quickly stood up and called out to the other student.

“No, nobody here! Just the three of us! You best look elsewhere.” Edelgard said. Edelgard, Dimitri, Sothis, and Byleth all let out a sigh of relief as the student ran off.

Claude said nothing, but instead looked towards the doorway as he watched students run back and forth in front of the stables. He took another glance at Byleth, back at the entrance again, and then one last look at Byleth. As he did so, a wicked smile stretched upon his face. Byleth realized too late the significance of that look as he watched Claude bolt towards the entrance of the Stables.

Fuck.

“PROFESSOR BYLETH IS IN THE STABLES!” Claude cried out, watching as both Byleth and the other students reacted to the news. Byleth was ready to just throttle the boy, but he didn’t have time. Instead, he tore off his half-worn trousers and bolted upwards towards the entrance and flashed his middle finger towards Claude’s direction. His other clothes were left behind in the stables in his haste.

“You’re on my shit list again, Chuckles!” Byleth angrily cried out, but all he could hear was the obnoxious sound of the boy’s laughter.

“Sorry Teach, but it was so worth it.” Claude replied, smiling from ear to ear. Catching up beside him, Dimitri and Edelgard just glared at Claude for his childish behavior.

“That wicked traitor!” Sothis exclaimed angrily. “Oh, I can’t believe he would do that to you! And here I thought he was trust—ah, Byleth look out!”

Byleth suddenly stopped as he nearly ran into one of the Golden Deer students, Raphael. The large, towering kid nearly grabbed a hold of Byleth, but Byleth managed to dodge his grip, executing a spin around him. Suddenly, Byleth felt a pair of arms grab him from behind.

“Got him!” Leonie exclaimed. Lysithea and Ignatz soon then grabbed Byleth by his spare legs, anchoring him down for good measure. As the three of them held their professor, who was only in his shirt and boxers, Byleth could hear cheering from the other Golden Deer students. Byleth thrashed around angrily but could not budge from their grips. He was trapped.

“This does not end here!” Sothis exclaimed, bringing out the green orb once more as it emitted its bright light. Byleth soon found himself where he was moments ago, face to face with Raphael. But this time, knowing where the other students were, he dodged to the other side of the big guy and managed to run right past him.

But as he ran past the Golden Deer students, he soon found some Blue Lions in the distance. Felix and Ingrid were heading towards him from the right and the left at a fast pace, but as Byleth tried to back up from landing in their path, he found himself once again caught from behind; this time from Sylvain.

“Sorry, Professor. No hard feelings, but I really need that extra credit.” The redhead said coyly as Byleth just glared at the three of them as he thrashed around.

“Extra credit?!” Sothis exclaimed. “That is what they sold you out for? The nerve of them. Byleth, if you do end up teaching these ingrates; make sure you fail all of them for their betrayal! Fail every single one of these ungrateful children!”

“Sothis, now!” He called out. Ingrid, Felix, and Sylvain looked at him in confusion and were about to say something until the light quickly enveloped around them.

Byleth was back at the beginning of the three-way attack and instead of running forward or back; he just stood still as he waited for the three of them to approach. When they got close enough, Byleth quickly ducked down as the three of them leaned forward to grab him, but instead of grabbing him; they just crashed into each other. As cries and groans of pain emitted from the three of them, Byleth took the opportunity to keep running.

Byleth came across a staircase and quickly ran down it, only to be greeted by Caspar and Petra who were waiting for an ambush at the end. Both of them grabbed him by each side, and Byleth struggled to break free.

“Sothis!” Byleth cried out, and the light enveloped around them again. Byleth was back at the beginning of the staircase, but instead of running down it this time; Byleth climbed on top of the edge and jumped downwards. Byleth winced in pain as he landed on his feet, but he did not break anything.

“Hey!” the Black Eagle students cried out as they watched Byleth run right past them, avoiding their trap. Soon, Byleth saw a very comforting sight; the Marketplace. He finally found it. He could see the finish line just before him; he was almost free of this nightmare.

Byleth quickly turned to look behind him, and soon saw all of the third year students and the faculty running after him like a stampede. Onlookers gawked in confusion at the bizarre sight, some even moved out of the side to avoid collisions, but nobody dared intervene; not even the knights knew what to do.

Passing by all the merchant stalls, maneuvering through the sea of people, trying not to run into anyone; Byleth ran as fast as he could to the exit. It was so close, he was nearly there. Suddenly a flash of white and green appeared right before him, clotheslining him into their grasp with what Byleth thought was a sturdy tree branch. Whoever they were, they were ridiculously strong.

“Ugh…” Byleth groaned audibly as he slumped and hung over his captor’s arm. He could see the outline of two pairs of feet behind his captor, one of them wearing the Knights of Seiros armor uniform. He heard some light snickering coming from them, but he could not lift his head to see who they were.

“Professor Byleth, I regret to inform you that you are very much underdressed,” replied his ‘captor.’ Byleth knew the owner of this voice; it was Rhea. How was Rhea this strong? “If you need lighter clothes for exercise, the Monastery is more than happy to supply you with some. However, running around the grounds is against our rules.

“Now, will someone please tell me what is going on?” Rhea inquired, projecting her voice above the crowd.

“Ah, Lady Rhea! Please, forgive us for--” Seteth started to say, before being interrupted.

“Professor Byleth has a crest!” Hanneman announced, interrupting his green haired colleague. “A crest I’ve never seen before; it is an extraordinary discovery! I simply must have a blood sample fr--”

“Professor Hanneman,” Rhea interjected, interrupting the man.

“I do not care what crest he has or does not have; that does not give you the right to impose yourself upon anyone for your research. I gave you free reign to conduct your research on the basis that you would act ethically. Please do not make me regret my decision.” Her tone was quite serious and on the verge of being wrathful.

“O-Of course, Lady Rhea. Please forgive me.” Hanneman nervously apologized, not wanting to incite the archbishop’s ire.

“Professor Hanneman and Professor Manuela,” Rhea continued, her tone becoming quite sharp. “I ask both of you not to over excite our new professor. This is all a new experience for him, and I would hate for it to be received poorly based on some slight misunderstandings and unintentional zeal.”

“Yes, archbishop.” Both Hanneman and Manuela replied in unison. They sounded like humbled school children getting scolded by a teacher.

“Lady Rhea, would you like me to carry him?” A voice spoke up. It came from the knight behind Rhea and was that of a woman’s, but Byleth could not see their face.

“No, that is not necessary, Catherine.” Rhea replied. “Instead I would like you and Shamir to see that the students properly resume their studies. They’ve had their fun; but now it is time for them to resume their work. Seteth, please come with me.”

“Of course, Lady Rhea,” Seteth replied.

“You heard the archbishop, let’s go!” Catherine called out, motioning for the students to move out. A sea of groans of disappointment erupted from the students, but nonetheless they complied and they promptly began to walk back to their classrooms.

“Lady Rhea, here are the professor’s clothes. He left them behind.” Dimitri said, appearing before the archbishop and her adviser, handing the articles of clothing to Seteth.

“Thank you, Dimitri.” Rhea replied. Dimitri gave a quick and polite bow to the archbishop, and then promptly headed towards the direction of his other classmates to join them.

“Come, Professor Byleth,” Rhea said, promptly lifting Byleth’s body upwards and slinging him over her right shoulder. “Let us get you to your quarters so you can calm down. If anything were to happen to you; I would never hear the end of it from your father.”

“Ugh…” Byleth moaned as she tossed him around. He was too tired to fight or protest.

The way back to the faculty dorm rooms was uneventful and rather quiet. Aside from the occasional whispers of confusion as the archbishop carried a half-clothed man over her shoulder; little was said from anyone. The archbishop and her advisor did not speak between one another, and the only noise that could be heard from the three of them was the occasional groaning from Byleth. Soon, the three of them came to a stop as they stood in front of Byleth’s room.

“Seteth, where is his door?” Rhea asked, her voice starting to crack as her anger began to swell and rise. Instead of a door, a simple curtain was hung in the doorway instead. It was a small attempt at trying to cover up the error, but it was not enough.

“R-Rhea, I can explain,” Seteth replied nervously. “It was my fault. I lost my temper you see and I was still angry at how rude the young man was the previous day and--”

“Seteth.” Rhea hissed, spitting the advisor’s name as if it was poison, she took a brief moment of silence to collect herself, and then began to sigh heavily. “You need to get that fixed, preferably before Jeralt comes back. Or it will be you who has to explain to the man how his son does not have a basic level of privacy.”

“Of course, Rhea.” Seteth murmured nervously. Byleth had a sneaking suspicion that Seteth was far more worried about Rhea’s wrath than Jeralt’s. He quietly entered the room and placed Byleth’s clothes on his desk.

“Professor Byleth, I apologize for all of today’s chaos.” Rhea stated, as she walked inside Byleth’s room and placed the man on his bed. She reached for the blanket crumpled on the foot of the bed, and draped it across the younger man as he lay. “This is not normally how the monastery operates or behaves. Please, get some rest and we shall start again tomorrow.”

As Byleth heard the receding footsteps of both the archbishop and her adviser, he could feel his eyelids grow heavy. He quickly shut them and burrowed his head further into his pillow. Byleth could vaguely hear Sothis speaking to him about something, but he could not make the words out as his consciousness rapidly faded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, despite the events of this chapter; I swear this is a serious story. I'm just having too much fun with shenanigans.  
Second, I went ahead and added the "main" pairing for the story in the tags in case that's a deal breaker for some. However, I want to remind folks that this will be a slooooow burn. Not to mention it will be covering the perspectives of numerous characters as well. Byleth won't be the main focus for every chapter for long, but i can't say quite for sure when that is going to change. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Credit to Dtale for beta reading this chapter! <3


	6. Blazing Through (the Certification Exams)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5/11/20: Fixed the date on the flashback. Got the year wrong and corrected it. Math was never my strong suit. ;~;

Verdant Wind

Great Tree Moon

Chapter 6: Blazing Through (the Certification Exams)

====

_Year 1169_

_“Again, Byleth.”_

_Standing in the middle of a large forest clearing was a boy holding a wooden sword. He was about nine years of age, pale complexion and messy teal blue hair. His body was on the scrawny side and covered in numerous small cuts, bruises, and scrapes; all evidence of his high physical activity._

_With the wooden sword in his hands, a young Byleth stood across a target dummy; cheaply made, stuffed with hay and a bucket for a head. Lifting up the wooden blade in his hand and aiming forward, Byleth took a deep breath in and lunged forward as he ran the dummy through. Byleth felt no resistance as the sword sank into the straw body of his opponent._

_“Wrong,” said the young boy’s father. Sitting not too far off from Byleth, Jeralt sat on a sturdy log, a bottle in hand as he observed the boy. “Aim your knee forward and keep your legs apart. Your sword needs to be up a little higher and in the position I showed you. Now, try again.”_

_Silently, the boy heeded his father’s words and began to reposition. Facing the dummy once more; Byleth made sure to keep his legs farther apart and kept his sword higher up. Once he believed he was ready; Byleth lunged forward again as he struck the dummy with the sword._

_As the sword came down swiftly, Byleth let out a loud verbal grunt as it successfully hit its target. But as Byleth turned to his father, hoping for praise; he instead found his father, frustrated as Jeralt sighed heavily, rubbing his temples._

_“Wrong, again.” He stated simply, trying to contain his frustration. “You leaned in too far and your knee shifted in the wrong direction. Do it again.”_

_Now it was Byleth’s turn to be frustrated. He let out an angry huff in response, but proceeded to collect himself and get back into his stance. But as Byleth lifted his sword up, ready to strike; his father interrupted him._

_“Don’t put all your weight on the heels of your feet. Shift forward a bit.” Byleth nodded silently as he did what his father told him to do, albeit feeling more agitated by the second._

_“That’s too far, there’s too much weight on your toes,” Jeralt quickly corrected him. “Shift back, to the balls of your feet.” _

_Byleth did so, biting his tongue to prevent himself from making the situation worse._

_“Your knee is out of position...again.” Jeralt said, sighing heavily, which he followed up with a long swig of the bottle in his hand._

_With that, Byleth was done. Tired and fed up with their training session; Byleth chucked the wooden sword into the distance. He proceeded to angrily kick the straw dummy out of frustration._

_“Hey!” Jeralt cried out. “What is wrong with you?” _

_Jeralt looked at his son in bewilderment as the boy threw his silent tantrum. Jeralt knew that Byleth was getting worn out of their training session for the day, but a tantrum seemed much._

_“This sucks,” young Byleth stated. Defiantly, the boy had his back to his father as he spoke. Jeralt hated when his son did that._

_“I don’t know what you mean by ‘sucks.’ You can explain it better than that. Use your words. And face me when I talk to you!” Jeralt spoke, perhaps a little louder than he would have liked. Slowly and begrudgingly, young Byleth turned around to face his father. Both father and son exchanged angry expressions with one another. Byleth stayed silent for some time, but eventually gave in and started to talk._

_“This is boring,” he murmured, quiet enough that Jeralt could barely hear him. “This isn’t fun.”_

_“When did I ever say training would be fun?” Jeralt responded, rubbing his forehead. “You’re the one who kept begging me to start training you how to use a sword.”_

_It had been the young boy’s sole obsession for the past couple of years, learning how to use a sword from his father. Jeralt was surprised, initially, as Byleth never expressed much interest prior; he figured one of the village kids got him hyped up about it. For a while, Jeralt said no, mostly because he did not have the time, but also because he thought Byleth was too young for it. But after his recent experiences in a village in Alliance territory, he had changed his mind and thought it was about time Byleth started to learn._

_“I’m not even using a real sword!” Byleth cried out._

_“You have to work up to the real thing, Byleth. There is a process and you have to go through all the steps.” While Jeralt explained sternly. He could see his son accidentally hurting himself with a real sword; a very sharp and pointy one at that. Byleth would not be seeing “a real sword” for quite some time. Not yet, at least._

_“It’s boring.” Byleth whined._

_“Yeah, it’s not supposed to be fun.” Jeralt admitted, standing up from the log he was sitting on and stepping forward to approach his son. “But it’s important. In real combat; your fighting form can become a matter of life and death. All it takes is one small mistake or slip up and that’ll be it. You’ll be dead before you know it.”_

_“Whatever,” Byleth mumbled. He ran out of arguments and was rapidly losing interest. The two of them had been training for a couple of hours and the boy was beginning to feel weary. Fortunately for him, his father had begun to pick up on that fact._

_“Alright, that is enough training for now. We’ll pick it up tomorrow.” Jeralt said, reaching his hand forward to lightly toss about his son’s hair in an affection manner. Byleth did not seem amused by the gesture, but did not verbally protest._

_“How about you go get the sword you threw over there so we can clean all this up. Then we’ll get some lunch, how does that sound?” Jeralt asked, picking up the large dummy, small insignificant pieces of straw falling off it due to Byleth’s strikes. Byleth had his back turned against his father as he started to walk in the direction he threw the wooden sword out._

_“I want soup.”_

_“Yeah, yeah.”_

====

4/20, Year 1180

“So who are you exactly?”

Sitting up in his bed, Byleth turned towards the floating girl across his room. The initial shock of the sight had worn off and the young man was starting to get used to the green haired girl’s constant presence. Although Byleth would not be disappointed to wake up suddenly and discover the events of the past few days had been nothing but one bad dream, either.

That morning, waking up had been rather uneventful for the two of them. Sothis did not hound him out of slumber like yesterday; but was rather quiet as she sat in the middle of the doorway to Byleth’s room. What was supposed to have a door in between its frame was now bare and missing; replaced instead by a long, flimsy green curtain was all that gave Byleth even a fraction of privacy from the outside world. Physical worldly items such as doors never seemed to stop Sothis before; but for whatever reason, the curtain seemed to draw her attention to the people outside passing by, oblivious to her watching.

Just below the floating girl, sat Byleth’s pair of boots. Byleth figured that one of the monastery staff must have returned them to him while he was sleeping, perhaps while they were putting up the curtain. Stepping up from his soft bed, Byleth walked over and grabbed the pair.

“What do you mean ‘who am I?’” Sothis demanded, peering at him in great scrutiny. “If you forgot about me again I swear I--”

“I know your name, Sothis. I remember you.” Byleth interrupted her, partially from his lack of social skills, but also since he didn’t want to hear her nag again. Carrying the boots in his hands, he promptly sat back down on his bed and began to fasten them on his feet. “But who are you? What are you? Why are you following me around? Why can’t anyone else see you?”

In truth, it was something he should have asked her about much earlier. Though, with the chaos that was yesterday; Byleth forgot. Late was better than never, he reckoned internally.

“Truthfully, I do not know who I am, besides my name.” Sothis admitted, casting her eyes downward, perhaps ashamed of this fact. She did not seem surprised by the nature of the question Byleth asked, either.

“How…?” Byleth stared at her in confusion, full of disbelief.

“I have no memories, at least none prior to your birth. Even the ones around your birth are hazy at best.” She replied, pausing for a moment. “I do not know why exactly; but I am bound to you and have been with you your entire life. Everywhere you go; I go. Even if you forget me or fail to see me; I have always been here.”

“So, yesterday at the infirmary,” Byleth said as he slowly started to put the pieces together. “What you said--”

“Yes,” She interrupted him. “Everything you have done in your life; I have seen it all. Everything.”

“Even--”

“Especially that.”

Upon hearing her words, Byleth flashed a look of true horror. The thought of anyone watching him during those times, especially someone like Sothis, was truly terrifying and left Byleth feeling very self-conscious.

“Oh, do not look so pitiful.” She chastised him, reclining back onto her side in the air. “I try to give you as much privacy as I can in your…moments of need. But I cannot stray too far from you. Although now that the topic has arrived, we really should discuss the fact that these special activities of yours have increased dramatically over the last year and--”

“No, Sothis!” Byleth hissed.

“But Byleth, I am concerned.” 

“Stop tal--”

“It’s excessive,” Sothis said, looking quite perturbed. “I know you are young and the youth are full of…vigor, but at least most people make a social occasion out of it! Oh, how I am weary of you sleeping away your life and being a pitiful recluse! Go out and make some friends, you fool! Interact with people; anyone, I beg of you! Even if it is just to do that. Although do avoid the strumpets, if you can. They will bring you nothing but trouble.”

“A strumpet…?” Byleth whispered in great confusion, wondering what on earth the girl was going on about.

“Do you not even remember any of them?” Sothis asked, her face souring in disgust, both at his blatant disregard, as well as the resurfacing of a memory. “Like the one girl from Redrock Village that practically threw herself in your arms? Kept claiming you were her ‘great hero’ just to butter you up.”

“Who?”

“She was the one with the large breasts, Byleth.” Sothis explained, gazing at him with an exacerbated look, her hands puffing outwards of her chest in a childish pantomime.

“Oh…” Byleth murmured softly. “Yeah, I think I remember now.”

“Do you even remember her name?” Sothis inquired. Byleth had not expected a follow up question and began to sweat as he racked his brain for the memory. There was a long, awkward silence between the two of them before Byleth could give an answer.

“Breast...ine?” He winced at the best he could come up with on short notice.

“Is vulgarity the only thing on your mind?” Sothis yelled. “You know ever since you left to go be a mercenary with your father; you have not bothered to make or keep any significant relationships in these last couple of years? You have been an absolute loner; which is both unhealthy and incredibly boring!”

Byleth rolled his eyes, wondering why he was entertaining the girl, and why his “health” was any of her business.

“Although, now that I think of it. There was that one young man who worked with you and your father for some time that you grew quite close with.” She teased with a small smirk. Suddenly, Byleth felt a pain in his stomach as he began to realize who she was referring to.

“Sothis, no--” Byleth protested, his words falling on deaf ears.

“Oh, what was his name, now? Hm…” Sothis wondered aloud, ignoring the flustered man below her. “Oh, but I do remember how quite smitten you were with him. You would just follow him around like a baby duckling, it was so precious. Truly a shame what happened…”

“That’s enough!” Byleth shouted, his eyes flashing with rage, his body beginning to shake. Sothis was caught by surprise by this and realized she may have gone too far. She had seen the boy experience the pain, but the two never talked about it before. Although, it was not as if they had much opportunity to talk about anything these past couple of years.

“We are never talking about that.” Byleth replied, leaving little room to argue, avoiding the girl’s gaze.

“Byleth…I-” Sothis quietly murmured, feeling rather concerned for the boy.

“No. I’m serious, Sothis. Drop it.”

And so she did. Although Sothis believed it to be a mistake, she did not pursue the topic further. Instead, the two sat in silence for some time. Byleth had fallen back on his bed and was turned facing the wall. Sothis floated leisurely above him, but could not see his face. For a while, she was worried the young man had fallen back asleep, but soon he began to stir and turn to face the girl.

“For the record,” he said, glaring at the floating girl. “I am not okay having a conversation about my sex life with a ten year old. It’s gross.”

“Excuse me?!” Sothis roared, suddenly in a rage. Byleth in turn was quite surprised, and frankly, quite confused. What did he say wrong?

“I will have you know that I am an adult!” Sothis hissed. “In fact, I am leagues your elder, so pay your respects!”

But instead of paying any respects, Byleth merely looked at the girl like she had five heads on her shoulder. Sothis did not fail to miss this.

“This…is not my true form.” She explained, or at least tried to. “It is hard to explain, but this is not the full ‘me.’ I do not know why I am in this form, or what my original form looked like; but I have no doubt that it was absolutely beautiful and graceful as fitting for my physical vessel.”

Byleth eyed her suspiciously. “How old are you, then?”

“I do not know,” Sothis confessed. Byleth clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes in response. It sounded like convenient bullshit to him.

“B-but while I do not know the details,” she continued nervously. “I know that I am in fact, quite old; at least, compared to human lifespans.

“Hm…yes,” she continued. “I believe I was quite mature in my age. I seem to have this feeling like…like I had a family? Children? It…is hard to say for sure, but…”

Suddenly Byleth had an unwanted, disturbing image of the small, child-like Sothis before him, belly full with child, flash in his mind. He physically recoiled in disgust at the thought. Ew.

“So you were super old in years and had a bunch of kids.” Byleth said, trying to recover from the unpleasant imagery. “What are you like, secretly a grandma or something, Sothis?”

His quip warranted an unwanted mental image of a pregnant grandma Sothis, instead. The image gave him great pain and anguish.

“You are so rude.” Sothis said, glaring at him. “You really need to work on that. One of these days you are going to get seriously reprimanded for your loose tongue.”

“Whatever you say, Grandma.” Byleth replied sarcastically. Sothis just let out a long, heavy sigh in response. She took a few moments to collect herself before she continued to speak once more.

“Well, there is your answer, like it or not.” Sothis stated, reclining back in midair. “Maybe one day I will reclaim my memories and learn the truth.

“But in the meantime,” she continued. “We must focus on the tasks for today; the first being getting some proper nourishment. It has been nearly twenty-four hours since you last ate and since you have been here you have not been eating enough for a young man of your size. You have your certification exams today and you need to be in top form; physically and mentally.”

Byleth could not help but feel that Sothis was exaggerating the urgency and was about to argue with her about it; but before he could open his mouth to speak, a loud growl erupted from his stomach. Believing her point was proven, Sothis just simply glared at Byleth, who let out a heavy sigh.

“Fine,” Byleth relented. Slowly, he rose from his bed and quickly slipped into his jacket. Walking towards the doorway, Byleth used a stray hand to push through the green curtain and stepped outside on the monastery grounds. Not missing a beat, Sothis quickly floated ahead of Byleth, leading the young man to the dining hall.

“And hurry!” Sothis exclaimed, her face lighting up excitement. “Maybe we can get there before the rush comes in and get the first call on seating arrangements. I want a seat near a window!”

Byleth failed to see the great appeal of a window seat, but he did not protest the request.

“By the way, Sothis.” Byleth spoke up, briefly changing the topic of the conversation. “What was the name of that girl? It is bugging me now.”

“Titania,” she stated, blankly staring at him. “You should also really work on that memory of yours, too.”

“Oh, that’s right. I remember now.” Byleth murmured. He remembered the girl; she was the daughter of a rich merchant who hired his father’s mercenary crew to guard some important caravans for a couple of weeks. Byleth remembered how at the last week of the gig she suddenly came on to him one night, which caught him by surprise.

The other guys in Jeralt’s mercenary crew made a big deal out of it, being the young mercenary’s first, leading to relentless teasing. He remembered the nickname that the other guys in the crew would call her; “Big Tits Titania.”

“Remember Byleth, I want a window seat!” Sothis nagged one final time, breaking him from his reverie as he began to follow her direction to the Dining Hall.

====

Unfortunately for Sothis, they did not arrive early. In fact, they arrived with what seemed like the whole monastery present, as it was incredibly packed. Sothis looked quite disappointed at the state of the Dining Hall, seeing as she could not find a spare seat near a window. Byleth quietly got in the Dining Hall food line and began to fill his tray with anything that caught his eye, which ended up being a large portion of the dishes available. He passed by a sweet old woman standing behind what he could only describe as hell boiled down into a stew. He briefly thought about taking a scoop, before remembering Claude’s advice. He put the scoop down, a small frown on the old woman’s face as he moved through the line, having dodged what could have been the most fatal arrow on his life.

But getting through the food line was the easy part, at least for Byleth. Now the hard part; finding a spot to sit. He struggled to find any spots that he could take up within the hall. People were shuffling around so quickly and he was not sure if certain tables were for students only, knights only, or what the rules were. It was all so very confusing.

Suddenly, he recognized three familiar faces in the crowd; the third year house leaders. They caught him looking at them and their faces lit up. The three students exchanged glares at one another across tables; and suddenly Byleth began to recall yesterday. All three students fighting over him like a Zanado Treasure Fruit and making a big scene about it; he hoped it wouldn’t happen again.

For a moment, there was a deadlock between the three students. They all sat still, as if waiting for one of the others to make a move first. Byleth thought he might be able to avoid a confrontation if it stayed like this, but alas, Lady Luck would not be so kind to him on that day.

It was Claude who broke the standoff; he jumped out of his seat in such a quick, hazardous manner that he ended up briefly tripping over his own feet in the process. The other two quickly followed suit and took the brief moment that Claude was down to gain speed. But because there was no running allowed on monastery grounds, the three of them were power walking in such an aggressive manner and at such speed; Byleth swore it was almost as if they were a pack of rampaging Albinean moose.

As all three of them were coming gunning for him from different directions, Byleth began to panic and felt trapped. He could hear Sothis saying something to him, possibly calling out his name; but he could not decipher her words. Rather, Byleth was focused on the door to the dining hall as he was ready to make a break for it once more. Suddenly, a familiar voice spoke up from behind him.

“Professor Byleth!” Seteth exclaimed loudly, projecting his voice to get the other man’s attention. It was so loud and so sudden that it startled Byleth shitless out of his escape plan. Behind the green haired man was his smaller, green haired sister, Flayn. Byleth looked in bewilderment as to what the other man could possibly want from him.

“If it is easier for you,” Seteth said, motioning towards a specific table. “You are invited to sit at one of the tables reserved for the faculty and staff. You can even sit with us, if you would like.”

Flayn looked surprised at the invitation sent by her brother and seemed quite excited at the prospect of a new face joining them. Byleth nodded silently and followed the two green haired siblings.

The table the two siblings lead him to was one that was far away from the food line, but definitely had more free space. He only saw a handful of people sitting at the table; most notably, two women and a young boy. Seteth chose to sit at the far end of the table, while Byleth chose the other end. The young girl Flayn sat between the two of them, perhaps a seat or two closer towards Byleth’s end.

“Flayn, it seems you’ve misplaced your seat.” Seteth said, motioning to the space straight across from him, barely trying to hide his attempt to get her away from sitting near Byleth. Flayn looked disappointed, but complied with her brother’s request. Said brother then proceeded to glare at Byleth, confused the mercenary, also rather pissing him off. What was his problem?

“He is probably cautious because of the nonsense you provoked him with yesterday.” Sothis said, floating above the table casually. “You asked him if you could sleep with his sister, if you’ve already forgotten.”

The memory of the conversation from yesterday quickly returned to him as Byleth began to munch on one of the many pieces of toast he had on his plate. Recalling his words, Byleth could not blame Seteth for his protectiveness. He still felt like the older man was way too serious and needed to learn to take a joke. But Byleth concluded that was he most likely a very lost cause anyway.

“My goodness that is a lot of fish!” Sothis exclaimed, gazing at the girl’s plate. Indeed, it was a ton of fish.

“Strange, I do not remember fish being offered in the food line…” Sothis murmured. But before Byleth could ask about it, a voice suddenly spoke up.

“How’s it going, boxer boy?!” one of the two women at the table said. She was a blonde knight with tan skin and blue eyes. Next to her sat a short dark-haired woman who did not wear the knight uniform, but had some light armor on her. It seemed like she was a hired mercenary. The two women exchanged looks with one another briefly before bursting in a fit of chuckles.

Byleth stared at them in confusion for a moment, but felt like he had heard the blonde woman’s voice before. He paused briefly in thought, remembering the events of yesterday. After his encounter with Rhea, he only caught a glance of his party’s footwear. Sneaking a subtle peek under the table while the women were giggling, he saw two familiar pairs of shoes.

“Were you two with Rhea yesterday?” Byleth asked, not completely sure. The women nodded, smiling to themselves.

“Ah, yes.” Seteth said, interjecting himself in the conversation as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You haven’t been introduced to these three yet. Allow me.

“This is Catherine,” Seteth said, gesturing to the blonde woman. “She is one of the Knights of Seiros and a part-time instructor at the Officer’s Academy. She is a former graduate from the academy as well.”

Catherine gave a brief wave and Byleth quietly nodded back in response.

“Next to her is Shamir” Seteth continued, the dark haired woman replying with a curt nod. “She is also a member of the Knights of Seiros and teaches part-time for the Officer’s Academy.”

“You don’t wear the knight’s uniform?” Byleth asked.

“It isn’t a requirement,” the woman replied. Her response didn’t exactly reveal why she doesn’t wear the knight’s uniform, but before Byleth could ask , a different voice spoke up.

“Why were you running around half-naked yesterday?” the young boy next to Shamir asked. He had dark hair, brown skin, and red eyes. He looked to be in his early teen years, and could easily be mistaken for a student if he wore the black and gold uniform. The boy also reminded Byleth of Claude, if only by their skin tones. The boy stared at Byleth blankly, waiting for his answer. 

“The nurse and monocled old guy were chasing me.” Byleth replied, having forgotten his fellow professors’ names already.

“Oh,” the boy stated. He stared off for a bit as if trying to process the answer. “Okay, then.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?” Byleth asked him, slightly surprised from the boy’s nonchalance.

“No, not really.” The boy answered dully. “But, I guess I understand now. Manuela is really strange and Hanneman can get weird too sometimes.“Ah. And my name is Cyril. I help out Lady Rhea here at the monastery.”

“So what does that entail?” Byleth asked, wondering if he would need this information later.

“Whatever she asks of me. It’s mainly cleaning, though.” Cyril responded, vague enough to still leave Byleth confused.

“Oh, so you work as one of the staff?” Byleth assumed to clarify his own mental profile of Cyril.

“I guess so. But I mainly do it to help Rhea. I owe her a lot.” Cyril replied. He glanced at the clock on the wall and finished off his plate, turning towards Shamir. “I should go ahead and get started on today’s work. See you later, Shamir!”

The boy then proceeded to wave goodbye to everyone at the table, obviously biased toward the woman he called by name. Once he left the dining hall, Catherine began to speak.

“Man,” she sighed. “Everything is always ‘Rhea. Rhea. Rhea.’ with that kid, it’s exhausting.”

“The pot’s calling the kettle black,” Shamir retorted, subtly snagging a piece of the other woman’s food with a fork, her accuracy leaving the other items on the plate undisturbed.

“Hey, that is not true!” Catherine argued, turning to the other woman, noticing her stolen favourite after Shamir had popped it into her mouth. “And quit that!”

“These two seem quite close.” Sothis observed, still floating above their table and watching the scene below. Suddenly, she saw something in the corner of her eye and began to descend and float behind the two women.

“I wonder why she has her hand on the other woman’s thigh? She seems to keep caressing it.” Sothis wondered aloud, Byleth could not help but raise an eyebrow at the discovery. Interesting. “My, my, they are awfully close, are they not?

“Oh, wait a minute!” Sothis exclaimed, suddenly realizing what was going on. “I see! These two must be--”

“Oh, Professor Byleth, what a surprise!” Before Sothis could finish her statement, she was interrupted by a familiar voice. Byleth whipped his head around and watched in horror as he was greeted by two familiar faces; Professor Manuela and Professor Hanneman.

“Not these two again!” Sothis cried out and Byleth could not help but agree with the sentiment, already scanning for a way out.

“How wonderful that you would join us at our table this morning.” Hanneman said, holding a plate of food in hand.

“‘Our table?!’” Sothis said; her brow furrowing as she began to connect the dots. “This is a trap! We’ve been had! Escape immediately Byleth!”

She floated over an oblivious Seteth and began to shout some unflattering words, trying to pull at his hair and failing miserably.

“Oh how wonderful, indeed!” Manuela cooed, promptly sitting right next to Byleth on his right side; far too close to his liking. “Why, one could even say that fate brought us together. How romantic.”

“Byleth, you need to get out of here, now!” Sothis hissed. “This woman is dangerous.”

Byleth agreed with Sothis, but he was not sure how he was going to get out of this situation. He had just sat down to eat, after all.

“Manuela, please.” Hanneman asked as he sat down on Byleth’s left side, boxing him in. He lay out a napkin before setting up his silverware properly, the array of silverware a mild surprise to Byleth, who only took one set. “We both promised we would not repeat yesterday’s incident .”

“Fine,” Manuela said, edging back a bit from the young man next to her as she began to pout. It didn’t stop her from staring intently at Byleth, which unnerved him greatly. Byleth did not believe this respect of personal space would last very long.

“But since we are on the topic,” Hanneman said, turning his attention towards Byleth. “Professor Byleth, Manuela and I wish to properly apologize for behavior yesterday. It was most unprofessional, unethical, and we are deeply ashamed of ourselves. We hope you can forgive us.”

“That’s right!” Manuela piped up, agreeing with her coworker. “We just got a little… excited, that’s all, Sweetie. You understand, right?”

Both professors turned to Byleth for his answer, visibly hoping for a positive response.

“Uh, sure. Yeah, uh… I understand.” Byleth murmured, caving into the social pressure more easily than he would have liked. He did not want to hang around with them, but he certainly was not overly upset at them or anything. They were just bizarre.

“Excellent!” they both exclaimed in unison.

“Byleth, no!” Sothis cried out as she looked rather distressed at the growing situation. “Do you not remember yesterday? Stop this at once! Tell them to leave!”

“Don’t you worry, Sweetie.” Manuela assured Byleth, leaning in as much as she could get away with. “From now on, Mama Manuela is gonna take it nice and slow. After all, you can’t rush love.”

“Nor the pursuit of knowledge!” Hanneman exclaimed. “Or all the wonderful secrets and discoveries it holds.”

“And you are just absolutely wonderful, dear.” Manuela said, her attention completely enraptured by the younger man. “What is your ideal woman? Sweet and gentle, motherly and nurturing, strong and independent, seductive and ravishing, or perhaps a playful kitt--”

“Manuela,” Seteth interrupted, a momentary pause from the nurse’s advances. “Need I remind you that all relationships between monastery employees must remain platonic and we do not allow--”

“I am just asking a question, Seteth.” Manuela defiantly protested. “I simply wish to get to know our dear new professor here; no harm in that.”

“Liar,” Sothis said, glaring at the woman.

Seteth just sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, not bothering to argue as he went back to eating. Flayn flashed a look of sympathy to her brother while she munched on a piece of grilled fish. On the other end of the table, Catherine looked rather annoyed with Manuela and her antics, while Shamir simply flashed a smug grin at her coworker’s expense. The two women seem to have witnessed this routine before, but knew better not to engage.

“By the way, Professor Byleth.” Hanneman said, as he dabbed away some small bits of food from his chin with a napkin. “I really do encourage you to stop by my office again. I would love to run more tests, do some interviews, collect some samples—all completely non-invasive and only with your permission of course. You have no idea what an extraordinary discovery your crest is for my research.”

Munching on a piece of toast, Byleth could only stare at the older man’s request with his signature apathetic stare. Byleth could not imagine what in the world could possess the other man to suggest that they try to do that again. Yesterday was a disaster, one that was still fresh in Byleth’s mind.

“Oh boy, here it comes…” Catherine groaned. Shamir, who sat next to her, looked equally as “excited.”

“As you may remember Professor Byleth,” Hanneman continued, ignoring Catherine and Byleth’s blank stare.

“My academic work lies in the field of Crestology. For years, I have studied the phenomenon of crests and have been trying to truly understand their origins and where they come from and how they come to be.” He started, Catherine’s face falling being an indication of another one of the older professor’s long tirades.

“Crests have appeared all over the body of their bearers for centuries. They appear as marks, but they will not appear on the body unless the bearer activates the crest or if magic is specifically cast to make them manifest.” He continued, tapping his gloved right hand, reminding Byleth of the similar display yesterday.

“Many individuals go without realizing they have a crest for years. Although nowadays that is much less common; as we have created technology to make the marks appear if the user has one.” Hanneman’s expression became troubled, as if reliving the self-perceived horror of not knowing about one’s own crest until it was too late to have made use of it.

“But what many people do not know,” Hanneman continued, breaking from his reverie. “Is that you can sometimes actually feel the spot where the mark will show. Many bearers have reported feeling a tingling of some kind during crest activation. It is not consistently reported, alas, but there are enough reports to consider it a potential symptom of crest activation.”

“Ugh, Hanneman, just get to the point already!” Manuela cried out. For once, Byleth agreed with her. Byleth was marginally interested in the topic, but the details were far too convoluted for his patience at the meal table. He could feel himself slipping in and out as Hanneman spoke, only picking up every other word as he continued to eat, more so engrossed in the marvelous texture of his toast. Above him, Sothis was floating, observing the people below her. She seemed to be listening in to the conversation, but Byleth could see her attention wane every so often as her eyes drift to other tables nearby.

“My theory is,” Hanneman said. “Is that it is something that occurs due to the bearer’s blood. In fact, I believe that the very foundation of crests lies in blood, somehow. And not just by purely hereditary means.”

Suddenly, Seteth began bursting out in a fit of violent coughs, drawing the attention of the others who thought the advisor was choking. Flayn had gotten up from her seat to check if her older brother was alright, patting his back softly. She might have said something if not for the fish in her mouth. The others at the table said nothing, simply just watched for signs if they needed to intervene. Seteth’s coughing began to settle down, assuring his sister that he was fine. The rest of the group diverted their attention back to Hanneman and his discussion of crests, who had respectfully paused his discussion for the advisor to recover.

“Furthermore,” Hanneman said, setting his cutlery down to use his hands to gesture. “I believe that the locations of said crests are not random; at least not entirely. No, my hypothesis is that they appear along arteries. Which one they show up on and exactly where they appear, I am not able to determine yet, but I believe I am on the right track. Naturally, you can understand now why I was so shocked to see a crest appear on the location of the heart; least of all a crest mark I have never seen before!”

“No, I don’t,” Manuela interjected, subtly scooting closer to Byleth, a breath away from leaning on the young professor as she goaded Hanneman. “You do remember that the heart also has an artery? It is called the aorta, you old goat.”

“This is true,” Hanneman admitted, ignoring Manuela’s insult. “But not once has anyone been documented and proven to bear a crest upon the heart. It is still a shocking discovery.”

“Hm… what about that one clergywoman?” Shamir asked, turning to the woman sitting beside her. “Catherine, what was the name of that one female warrior you said you used to idolize as a kid? You said she grew up in Garreg Mach but participated in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion? What was her name again…”

“Ah, Astaroth the Brave!” Catherine piped up, her eyes suddenly glittering with interest at the topic at hand. “The stories about her were some of my favorites growing up. She was said to have a crest mark upon her heart as well. How do you explain that one, Hanneman?”

“Astaroth… where have I heard that name before?” Sothis pondered aloud, frustrated as she tried to call forth the memory. “It feels so familiar but I just can't seem to recall… ”

“Many heroes have been claimed to have crests on their hearts; a sign of their bravery, virtue, or greatness of some kind. But there has been no official documentation, record, or testimony for any of them. Including the hero Astaroth.” Hanneman refuted, much to Catherine’s ire. Taking a stab at a piece of food off of her plate, she recalled something.

“But what about all the stories where they say King Loog himself saw the crest and swore to it?” Catherine pointed out, growing increasingly defensive.

“In all of my research, I have yet to procure any physical copy of that alleged testimony; whether from King Loog himself, the Church of Seiros, or any of her entourage. However, there was always one thing that I found curious.” Hanneman said, taking a brief moment to sip his coffee.

“After her fall in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, Astaroth’s body was sent to Garreg Mach Monastery. It was documented that she grew up in this area, possibly as a regular attendant to the monastery. But because she had given her life to his cause and was a close friend and ally to King Loog; she was to be sent to Fhirdiad to be buried instead.” The old professor continued, gesturing skywards to add to his point.

“But on their way there,” Hanneman continued. “The caravan carrying her coffin to the capital was ambushed. There was only one survivor and they were knocked unconscious early on in the attack. When they awoke, their companions were torn apart and Astaroth’s body had been desecrated; her heart being taken from the corpse.”

“Sounds strange to me,” Shamir replied, quickly taking another bite off of Catherine’s plate. “Why would someone steal the heart of a dead woman, but leave the body and kill off everyone else except for one person who could potentially identify the attacker?”

“Well since she had a crest on her heart, there were a lot of legends about how the heart itself was powerful. Like a magical relic of some kind. So, someone at the time probably wanted it for themselves. As for the people escorting her body, I guess the thieves just botched up the job and that one survivor got lucky. Doesn’t sound so strange to me.” Catherine explained, though Shamir did not look satisfied with the answer. Despite her unease, she did not press the subject further.

“Regardless, if Astaroth had a crest; all proof of it and its location were stolen and never verified. Thus, it has remained a rumor and nothing else.” Hanneman continued, returning to taking small bites as he spoke.

“But, who knows. There actually may be records of her or any other potential crest bearers with the very proof I need. If only I had access to the Secret Archives of our fine monastery.” Hanneman stated bitterly, as he stopped to blatantly glare at Seteth, who was sitting at the other end of the table.

“For the last time Professor Hanneman,” Seteth spoke, irritated at the other man’s dogged persistence. “There is no ‘Secret Archives.’ There is only the Vault. As far as access to the Vault goes, you must ask the archbishop directly I cann--”

“And the archbishop says I must refer to you. I am tired of these games, Seteth! You cannot keep me out of there forever!” Hanneman replied, pounding his fist beside his plate in a veiled threat. Instead of replying, Seteth ignored him.

“Truly, matters of the heart are such complicated things.” Manuela said, sighing wistfully until something caught her attention. “Oh, Byleth! You barely have touched your plate. Here, why don’t I help you with that; open wide and say, ‘ahhh.’”

Using a spare fork, she grabbed a piece of food and held out the utensil towards Byleth’s face, hoping he would let her feed him.

“Don’t even entertain her, Byleth!” Sothis said, not happy with the situation unfolding below whatsoever. As it turned out, she was not the only one.

“Damn it, Manuela. Leave that boy alone!” Hanneman exclaimed. He had been ignoring her for quite some time, but something in him finally snapped. “You are clearly making him uncomfortable.”

“The only thing making him uncomfortable is having to listen to you drone on and on about crests.” Manuela insisted, her attention finally shifting away from Byleth and towards someone else, dropping the fork onto Byleth’s plate. Byleth took a big breath of relief, quickly munching on the morsel before Manuela got a second chance.

“I am talking about my work, Manuela!” Hanneman said, rather offended at the statement, but noticeably less than the ire of being locked out of the Inner Archives. “And if you put as much as much time and effort into your own work and not chase after every single eligible bachelor in the vicinity; you could make some significant progress!”

“Mind your own business, Hanneman!” Manuela cried out. “Not all of us are stony-hearted old clods who shove their faces in books all day and like to tell people how to behave. Some of us like to actually live a little and have some fun. I have needs, Hanneman. Needs!”

“What you need is some restraint and moderation!”

“Shut it, you old bag of bones!”

Caught in between the two and all of their yelling; Byleth felt an annoying headache imminent. Between the growing pain in his head, the increased stares from the other people in the dining hall; Byleth could feel his patience rapidly growing thin by the second.

“Oh, you are just so insufferable and obstinate!” Hanneman shouted.

“I’m insufferable?!” Manuela roared, acting as if she could barely fathom the idea. “You are the insufferable one! In fact, you are judgmental, condescending, arrogant--”

Having reached his limit, Byleth stood up and angrily grabbed his plate from the table and began to storm off towards the exit. He had shoved Manuela away from him as he stood, giving both senior professors pause.

“Remember, food can only be eaten in the dining hall.” Seteth called out. Byleth turned to angrily glare at the green haired man, but complied nonetheless. He stared straight into the windows of Seteth’s soul as he proceeded to dump all the food on his plate in the trash before leaving the plate with the other dirty dishes.

“Ugh, you are SO wasteful!” An angry Leonie cried out from somewhere in the dining hall. Byleth ignored it and briskly headed towards the exit. As he left the dining hall behind with a final slice of toast in his mouth, he could hear his coworkers arguing once more.

“Now look what you’ve done, Hanneman!”

“Me? This is your fault, Manuela!”

====

“Byleth, you barely ate at all!” Sothis cried out, angrily floating above the young man. “You only ate bits of bread, again. You do realize that is not remotely enough food for you, correct? A diet consisting only of bread is not at all nutritious!”

As Byleth made way through the monastery grounds, he proceeded to aggressively ignore the nagging girl floating above him. It was only when she stopped yelling that he began to pay any sort of attention to her.

“Where are you going?” she asked, swooping in to hover directly in front of him, face to face.

"To my room,” Byleth flatly replied.

“But you just woke up! Please do not tell me you plan to--”

“I’m tired,” he explained, not even bothering to look as he kept his face forward and marched onward.

“Tired of sleeping!” she exclaimed, folding her arms in an aggressive manner and glaring down at the young man in front of her. But Byleth continued to ignore her.

“You do realize you are not even going the right way?” Byleth suddenly stopped and gazed at his surroundings; realizing Sothis was right. He was at the stables. Byleth was not sure how he got there, but he was sure this was most certainly not the right way. He quickly looked around for any hint of a way back to where he was supposed to be, or even better, someone to ask for directions; but there was no one in sight.

“Besides,” Sothis said, interrupting his train of thought. “You cannot nap now. You are expected at the training grounds for your examinations.”

“Ugh,” he scoffed as he continued to look for someone to ask for directions for. Where were people when he needed them?

“I do not care how trite or trivial it is, it must be done.” Sothis said, floating straight in front of his face. “It needs to get done today, Byleth. Just go ahead and get it over with.”

Byleth proceeded to roll his eyes once more and pout. She was right, but boy did he not want to do it.

“If you get it done now,” Sothis said. “I promise I will lead you to your room afterwards so you can have a nice, long nap until lunch.”

“Deal,” Byleth replied, although he did not look happy. The certification exams sounded like a long, boring process that Byleth certainly did not want to do; but he knew that Seteth would be on his ass if he missed them and a nap afterwards did sound quite nice. But as Byleth quickly shot off towards to get the certification exams over with, he suddenly heard a familiar, obnoxious voice ring out.

“Where are you going?!” Sothis cried out, looking rather confused.

“To the training grounds,” Byleth explained, flashing a confused look in return at the green haired girl. Face-palming rather aggressively, Sothis let out a loud groan.

“Other way, Byleth.” Letting out a heavy huff of irritation, Byleth quickly turned around and began to pursue the other direction.

====

With Sothis to properly guide him, it did not take Byleth long to reach the training grounds. Byleth was surprised to find it rather empty. It was mostly cluttered with various training dummies and targets throughout. In the distance, he Byleth could see a tall, blond man standing behind the equipment and staring at Byleth. Beside the blond man, stood a large brown horse attached to a pillar. Seeing as he was the only person here and seemed to be waiting for him; Byleth quickly headed over to approach the blonde stranger.

“Are you Jeritza?” Byleth asked, eyeing the man cautiously.

“Yes,” He said, deep and slow. “And you are late.”

“I was not told there was a meeting time.” Byleth explained.

“Hmph.” That was all Jeritza bothered to reply to Byleth with. Byleth was unsure what it meant, but it certainly left the impression that Jeritza did not care about much outside of himself.

“I am starting to quickly understand why he was not chosen for your position.” Sothis said, as she began to float around the blond man, as he remained oblivious to this. “He is rather blunt and dull, is he not?”

Byleth was not sure about “dull” but he certainly was blunt. Standing much closer to the other man, Byleth took a good look at him. Jeritza was tall, with long light blond hair that was tied in a ponytail that ran along the backside of his neck. Jeritza wore a variation of the monastery uniform, but had a single metal shoulder plate on his right shoulder. But unlike many of the other monastery employees, he wore a large white mask that covered the upper top half of his face. From what Byleth could tell, Jeritza seemed to have blue eyes underneath the mask.

“What’s up with the mask?” Byleth inquired, pointing to his own face for reference.

“We should begin soon. I wish to be done with this.” Jeritza replied, blatantly ignoring the examinee’s question. Byleth was mildly surprised by this.

“He is quite unpleasant and unsociable, indeed. It seems you two share that in common.” Sothis noted as she flashed Byleth a smug smile. Byleth just rolled his eyes and proceeded to ignore the girl, following Jeritza silently.

Jeritza walked over to a table with an array of weapons placed on it. Most of them were weapons Byleth was already familiar with; a variety of swords, axes, lances and the like. Byleth was surprised to see many varieties of bows and arrows as well. Most of the weapons he had experience with, but there were a few that Byleth had never seen before, or had only used once or twice in his time as a mercenary. Jeritza gestured towards the table and turned to Byleth.

“Pick up a weapon and we shall proceed.”

====

The certification exam ended up being a lot more one-note than Byleth had expected. It primarily consisted of Byleth hitting a variety of training dummies with a variety of techniques that Jeritza selected for him. In the first half, Byleth was to strike the targets while standing; while the latter half of the exam focused him striking targets on top of a horse.

Jeritza himself just stood back and watched Byleth silently save for his assertions on the techniques Byleth needed to perform, writing down notes on a piece of paper on a clipboard every so often. Byleth had expected some more verbal criticisms from the man, but found him to be surprisingly silent.

For the exams themselves, they ended up surprisingly uneventful too. For all the ones that Byleth engaged in, he felt he performed rather well in them as expected; with exception to the archery exam. Byleth had missed far too many shots he would have cared for, and while he was on horse his shots were downright atrocious. Even as a teenager, Byleth never cared for archery much and Byleth himself was still very rusty at the art.

“You have passed.” Jeritza said, his voice flat and monotone.

“That’s it?” Byleth asked, rather surprised at the fact. Jeritza nodded.

“The Officer’s Academy keeps the technical requirements to teach at a fairly low bar.” Jeritza explained, scribbling some more on the clipboard as he spoke. “The priority being in that you know the proper handling of weapons and have good form utilizing them. You need to be able to have the knowledge to correct your students, but also be able to emulate and demonstrate properly for them.

“There is also the need for knowing the safety concerns, particularly with offensive magic.” He continued. “Students have a tendency of setting fire to everything but the target dummy intended for it. Sometimes, even each other. You need to be prepared for situations such as those.”

Jeritza then proceeded to hand Byleth a sheet of paper. In big, bold letters the paper was titled “Certification Exam Results.” The following text was much smaller print, and Byleth swore that Jeritza had chicken scratch for handwriting; but for what he could tell after squinting heavily at the text, Byleth got a B+ in swordfaire, C+ in axefaire, C in lancefaire, D+ in archery, and C+ in horsemanship. Nothing of which was a surprise for Byleth.

“You performed best in sword handling, but performed adequately with lances and axes. Your archery skills need work, but your performance met the requirements for passing the exam. As far as horseback riding goes; well you did not fall off the horse, far better than the students you’ll be teaching.” Jeritza explained, clear but difficult to understand with his blasé attitude.

“As an instructor for the physical training portion of the student’s education, you must be certified on the same level of proficiency on the certification exam you are giving to a student. If you are certified in swordsmanship only at a B+ level, you cannot give a certification exam to a student looking to take on an A level exam.” The examiner continued, which made sense to Byleth. It was like him trying to teach his own father how to wield a blade.

“You are not expected to master everything.” Jeritza clarified. “The students will also be working with the other professors as well and can seek them out for assistance in whatever you lack knowledge in. Your priority will be creating a custom list of goals for the student for each week and managing the student’s progress throughout the year based on your weekly guidelines. However, you are expected to have the bare minimum knowledge for most things or at least seek to obtain that, for convenience of the student if nothing else.”

“So, am I done?” Byleth asked.

“Yes.” Jeritza answered. He paused for a moment in thought, but then continued to speak. “However, I have one request; I would like to spar with you.”

“Why?”

“Call it professional curiosity.” Jeritza answered simply. “Do you oppose?”

“I guess not.” Truthfully, he was not in the mood for it and did not see the point of sparring with the other man; but he supposed it would not kill him either. Byleth reached for the closest sword nearest him. Across Byleth, Jeritza reached for a lance, but as he turned around and noticed that Byleth picked up a sword, the blond man turned back around to swap for a sword as well, taking his time, which the mercenary found odd.

“You can keep the lance. I don’t care,” Byleth said.

“Using the same weapon will allow me to better compare our respective prowess. The difference will be marginal.” Jeritza replied, finding a blade and rubbing it with a cloth before Byleth could get a better look at it. Byleth simply nodded and tied the scabbard to his belt, thinking the caretaker was simply polishing his blade. The caretaker’s explanation made sense, and Byleth didn’t see the point in arguing elsewise.

“We go three rounds and start at the count of three,” Jeritza stated. Byleth nodded in agreement.

“One.” Byleth said, taking the initiative to start the count, readying his blade in front of him in his typical two-handed stance.

“Two.” Jeritza replied in proper time, one hand holding his blade as if it was a lance. The odd technique pulled Byleth’s attention as he finished the count.

“Thre--” Byleth barely finished the count before Jeritza suddenly lunged at him with great force. Thanks to his stance, he met the instructor’s blade at the guard of his own, deflecting the lunging blade past his shoulder. With their distance closed, Byleth saw a light in Jeritza's eyes that blazed as the mercenary caught his opening strike.

Byleth shoved the instructor away, opening up some room for him to breathe and recompose his stance. The respite didn’t last long as Jeritza took the initiative to attack with a flurry of varied slashes. Byleth blocked the strikes with his blade, using his two-handed advantage to weather the storm, the sound of metal clanging against metal echoing through the training grounds..

Suddenly, one of Jeritza’s slashes was deflected far enough away from Byleth to give the mercenary an opportunity to strike at the man. Quickly twisting his blade to the ground, Byleth performed an uppercut slash to knock the instructor off-balance. Byleth moved to finish the round before he was swept off his feet, landing on his rear. Jeritza’s blade tapped Byleth’s chestplate to indicate his victory for the first round.

“Ugh, that is such a cheap move!” Sothis exclaimed as Byleth pieced together what happened. Sitting up, Byleth took a moment to observe Jeritza. The instructor’s blade had some scuff marks near it’s tip. The mercenary surmised that the instructor had somehow used Byleth’s deflection as cover for his kick. His assumption had been correct, and Sothis had seen it happen.

When Byleth had defended against the final slash, the instructor had stuck the blade into a crevice in the ground, pulling himself out of Byleth’s attack while tricking the mercenary into thinking the slash had knocked Jeritza to the ground. As Byleth had moved to make a finishing strike, Jeritza twisted his momentum into a sweeping kick, pulling the blade out of the ground as he did and tapping the stunned Byleth on the chest.

“Byleth, get up and beat his rump most fiercely!” Sothis commanded as the mercenary stood, dusting himself off and preparing himself for the second round.

Across from him, Jeritza did the same, taking his unorthodox stance again. Byleth wasted no time in taking the initiative to go on the offensive. He had been sucked into Jeritza’s pace and if he wanted to win, he could not let it happen again.

Sparks flew as Byleth hammered Jeritza’s guard with overhand slashes, forcing the instructor to switch to a two-handed form lest the blade be knocked out of his hands. Feigning fatigue, Byleth slowed his assault after a particularly heavy slash with a huff, leaving a realistic opportunity for Jeritza to strike.

The instructor led with his signature lunge, eyes wide as Byleth made an unexpected parry with the pommel of his blade, deflecting Jeritza’s blade while holding his own horizontally to the instructor’s throat in the same stroke. Jeritza grit his teeth as he raised his other hand in surrender, granting Byleth the victory in the second round.

With two rounds down and only one more to go, Byleth and Jeritza both stood across one another; flushed and covered in perspiration. Wiping the sweat off his brow, Byleth took his position once more, but with an interesting twist. He had switched from his two-handed form to a one-handed stance, resting the blade horizontally on his shoulder. If Jeritza had been surprised by the change, he didn’t show it, though he switched his stance, taking a more orthodox blade form. The two started the count, and the final round began.

Jeritza took the initiative once more, the speed and intensity of each strike being much more than before. The freedom granted by using his blade one-handed allowed Byleth to keep up, meeting each strike with a sonorous clang.

As they clashed Byleth struggled to find an opening to take advantage of. Both men had seemed to pick up and adapt to the other’s habits rather quickly. But perhaps it was only true for Byleth’s understanding of Jeritza. Even if the form was experimental, Byleth hadn’t switched to it just so he could keep up with the instructor. Every fighter should have some secrets, after all.

Having shoved each other away after another clash, Byleth whirled the blade behind him, rushing forward with a dashing uppercut slash that he had yet to reveal to Jeritza. Despite seeing the slash for the first time, Jeritza was no slouch as he leapt into the air, telegraphing a powerful overhand slash. For a split second, their eyes met as their strikes were about to meet, and for a moment Byleth could have sworn that…

…Jeritza smiled?

And as their blades met, instead of a clang of metal on metal, a loud crack can be heard as Jeritza’s blade broke, the tip drawing blood from Byleth’s cheek as it flew past and clattered onto the ground. With Jeritza’s blade shattering, Byleth had stopped his blade short of the man’s throat.

“It seems that blade just had its final use. Unfortunate, but I’ll need to forfeit this round. Congratulations on your victory, Professor.” Jeritza frowned, dropping the remains of the blade in his hands onto the floor as he surrendered.

“Excellent job, Byleth!” Sothis cheered enthusiastically. But to Byleth, the final round felt suspicious. He sheathed his blade as Jeritza backed off, murmuring something about returning the horse to the stables as the caretaker left the grounds with the animal in tow. With the instructor gone, Byleth took the opportunity to study Jeritza’s broken blade more closely.

Upon closer inspection, the blade had been on its last legs for a while, its hairline fractures hidden by a shining coat of polish. Up until then, Jeritza’s attacks were calculated, precise, and ruthless. But the caretaker of the training grounds failed to see that his own blade was so close to breaking? It did not make sense to the mercenary. Why did he use this blade, but more importantly to Byleth, why would Jeritza let him win?

The caretaker returned with a moderate plate with some pieces of toast and meat jerky, along with two waterskins. Hearing the door open, Byleth turned with the handle of Jeritza’s blade in hand, determined to be answered.

“You knew your blade was about to break, why would you use it?” Byleth asked the blond man.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Jeritza replied, nonchalant as he put the refreshments on an empty space on the table where the weapons lay. He tossed the second waterskin to Byleth, the mercenary catching it easily before taking a drink. He hadn’t even noticed his own thirst until then. “A win is a win. Enjoy your victory, no matter it is attained, professor.”

“Really, who cares if he did go easy on you?” Sothis asked, not understanding Byleth’s concern. “I do not see the problem. If he did not care about winning, just let him go. You did well, regardless.”

Byleth did not say anything in response, but merely watched Jeritza as he began to clean up the training grounds.Byleth was not one to get wrapped up in winning or losing on sword spar matches, but something about this did not feel right and rubbed him the wrong way. Just what did Jeritza get out of the whole ordeal if he was not planning to win? What was the point? Byleth’s mind began to race as he tried to come up with an explanation for the bizarre change of events, but he struggled with coming up with a reasonable answer. In the moment of silence, his stomach grumbled loudly from his terrible diet. With an indescribable expression, Jeritza gestured to his plate of toast and jerky before taking a handful of weapons and entering a separate room, no doubt to put them away.

Byleth wasn’t one to turn down something he desperately needed and made his way to the table, untying his sword from his belt and putting it with the other blades, wiping his hands on his coat before taking some pieces of toast and jerky to fill his stomach, leaving half for the caretaker.

“Anyway, we should go.” Sothis said as Byleth finished his impromptu meal. “In fact, we should go exploring today. After all, there may be parts of the monastery we still have not seen ye--”

“No. You promised to guide me back to my room. I want a nap.” Byleth interrupted her, a nap sounding very good on a semi-full stomach after a high speed sparring session.

“But Byleth--”

“Sothis, you promised.” Byleth reminded her.

“Fine,” Sothis grumbled, motioning towards the direction for Byleth to follow. She was not pleased, but she complied; much to Byleth’s relief.

====

Byleth ended up sleeping far longer than he had initially planned for. Perhaps he was worn out from the afternoon he had spent with Jeritza or was just simply catching up on all the exhaustion he had from constantly moving around as a travelling mercenary; Byleth was not entirely sure. But when he did wake up, it was already well into the evening and Sothis was as mad as a hornet. Furious that Byleth slept so long, Sothis began to nag him relentlessly. Byleth just ignored her as he proceeded to tie his boots on.

Perhaps it was because she could not interact with the rest of the world and Byleth was her only audience; but Sothis talked way too much, at least in Byleth’s opinion. Even over little things, the floating girl would just erupt in constant chatter. Byleth did not know where she had all this energy to keep running her mouth. It was exhausting just by observing it.

His thoughts were interrupted as Byleth felt his stomach growl. Even though he had eaten something to fill his stomach earlier, one meal did not compensate for a whole week's worth of improper eating. He needed to get on that. Sothis had failed to hear the noise and was knee-deep in her ramblings; probably believing that Byleth was still listening to her.

“Honestly,” Sothis said, looking irritable and cranky. “I just cannot believe you would choose to sleep the day away--”

“Sothis.”

“What?” the green haired girl replied, turning to face him.

“I want food.” Byleth said, blankly staring at the girl. Part of him was still waking up from his long nap.

“And I want a castle with a moat,” she sarcastically replied. “But speak to me properly and with manners and maybe I can help you get to the place where you can get some food.”

Annoyed, Byleth proceeded to glare at her, his lips curling into a slight pout. Sothis remained undeterred and simply glared back at the young man, crossing her arms. The two then remained in a glaring deadlock with one another for a couple of minutes; until Byleth sighed and gave in.

“Sothis, can you help guide me to the dining hall so I can go eat.” Sothis continued to glare at him, causing some slight confusion for Byleth for a moment, until he realized what she was waiting for; the magic word. “…please?”

“Why yes, Byleth!” Sothis exclaimed, cracking a subtle, smug smile. “Now that you asked so politely; I can help you get to the dining hall. Was that so hard?”

Byleth said nothing. He turned his back towards her and simply let out a grunt in response. As he left his room, he confidently turned to the left and headed down the pathway until--

“Wrong way!” Sothis cried out to him. Byleth promptly turned around and headed in the other direction, letting Sothis lead the rest of the way and his previous confidence in his sense of direction shattered.

====

With Sothis as his guide, it did not take Byleth long to arrive at the dining hall. Similarly to previous times they arrived, the dining hall was packed. Byleth started to believe he was never going to arrive before the rush. Regardless, he went through the food line; requesting numerous portions of various foods, determined to actually eat it this time. The cooks serving out the food seemed hesitant to give him such large amounts; perhaps worried that he would just toss it away like he had before. They did not deny his quest, but gave out some ugly glares in exchange, especially the old woman who had been behind the Cheesy Verona Stew who ironically served him dinner rolls now.

Leaving the food line, Byleth soon found himself in a familiar dreaded predicament; finding a place to sit. What was worse, the mood of the dining hall shifted suddenly. What was once a loud, bustling dining hall full of chatter was now deathly quiet. Byleth could feel all eyes in the dining hall on him as he stood across the seats. He dared not look too closely, less he began to panic like before. Instead, he focused on finding an empty spot. In the corner of his eyes, he saw an individual sitting in the far back. Sitting as far away from the other people at the table and isolating themselves; they sat gazing out at the large window beside their table.

Jeritza.

“Now where shall we sit this time?” Sothis murmured aloud, her eyes shuffling across the crowd, trying to pinpoint an ideal spot. She seemed unfazed by the sudden silence in the Dining Hall, compared to her mortal companion. “Remember Byleth, while it is important to eat; it is important to socialize as well. In fact, this very moment is a prime time to find some interesting, friendly, and sane people to socialize with. Now how we will find them is--Byleth where are you going?”

Not bothering to wait on Sothis, or wait for anyone else to stop him; Byleth quickly walked over to the back of the Dining Hall at a rapid pace. He could hear Sothis calling out to him, trying to figure out where he was going. But he did not bother to wait and tell her, not wanting the opportunity to slip by him.

“Can I sit here?” Byleth asked the blond man he had met earlier that evening. A large bowl of frozen yogurt in front of him, Jeritza sat all alone.

“Byleth, no!” Sothis cried out. “Oh, please, no! Not him! Anyone but him! He is so boring!”

“I cannot stop you.” Jeritza replied. Byleth proceeded to sit down in front of the other man. With this, the people in the dining hall started to talk again. Byleth could hear Manuela complaining loudly in the distance, but he just ignored her and made an effort to avoid looking at her.

“You should know I do not care for talking or conversing with others and I have no interest in making friends.” Jeritza informed Byleth, almost glaring at him through the mask, having put his spoon down.

“I feel the same way.” Byleth explained. It was hard for Byleth to tell with the mask on, but he could have sworn that Jeritza looked rather surprised at this response. The caretaker then nodded his head in understanding and the two men proceeded to eat their food.

“You do know I hate you, yes?” Sothis said, floating above the two men with her arms crossed. “I hate you so much; you and this dullard. Out of all the people you choose to sit with; you choose him? And you will not even strike up a conversation? Well, I would say you two actually deserve each other; you are both dreadfully boring!”

“Just shut up and enjoy your damn window seat,” Byleth harshly whispered, turning his head towards Sothis’ direction. Sothis said nothing, but proceeded to float angrily over to the window where she sat in midair; turning her back to Byleth in a passive aggressive manner, personally noting the beautiful hues of orange of the imminent sunset that leaked through the window in surprise.

“Excuse me?” the masked man inquired, the apathetic tone in his voice not yielding whether he was agitated or not. Worried that he might be, as other people could not see the floating child that haunted him and could jump to a wrong conclusion; Byleth quickly tried to fix the situation with his newfound dining soulmate.

“I said that I really enjoy the window seat.” Byleth said louder, lying through his teeth. “It surely is a lovely view.”

Fortunately for Byleth, Jeritza accepted this answer and simply nodded his head and turned back to his meal. Byleth sighed heavily in relief and turned to his food as well.

Much to Byleth’s joy, and Sothis’ frustration; the two men ate in absolute silence for the rest of the evening. No arguing, no headaches, no fighting; nothing. Just sweet, peaceful silence. Byleth was surprised that no one else seemed to approach the two of them either. Even at their own table, everyone else seemed to keep a certain distance away from the two of them. Byleth could only assume that since he himself did not fail to attract people (albeit not intentionally); it must have been Jeritza whose presence seemed to ward off others.

And Byleth could not be happier.

====

With nobody to talk to, distract him, or deter him away from the dining hall; dinner did not last long and for once, Byleth had a full meal. It was late in the evening, and the sun was starting to set. As the merchants and travelers went home, the grounds themselves began to simmer down in activity. Sothis was not talking to Byleth, silently protesting after his dinner with Jeritza. Byleth was not affected by this protest, and in fact was enjoying the peace. He was not concerned with directions, either, as he finally learned how to get back to his room from the dining hall. It was a slow process, but he was learning. Arriving at the doorway to his room, he came upon a familiar face. 

“Professor Byleth!” Seteth exclaimed, looking about as shocked as Byleth was. “Thank goodness I finally found you! I apologize to have to bother you at this hour, I simply could not find you earlier this afternoon and you were not present for lunch…”

Well, he had been sleeping the day away in his room, hoping folks like Seteth would leave him undisturbed.

“I finished my certification exams.” Byleth informed him, believing he was approaching him about the matter.

“Yes, I heard and received the paperwork from Jeritza earlier. That is wonderful.” Seteth said. “However, you also have your first lecture tomorrow and I wanted to go over some things with you and--”

“Nope,” Byleth replied, cutting off the other man.

“I’m sorry?” Seteth questioned, truly not believing what he thought he heard.

“Don’t want to. I’m tired.” Byleth explained in simple terms.

“Professor Byleth, this is not something you can just brush off.” Seteth tried to explain, as he spoke he did his best to stay as calm as possible, although he could feel himself being pushed to the limits. “It is really important that you plan for these things and I can help--”

“Seteth, I am feeling very overwhelmed right now.” Byleth lied, not batting an eyelash as he did so. “I would like some time alone. I would hate to have a repeat of yesterday or make a complaint to the archbishop… ”

“But--”

“This is the part where I would close my door on you.” Byleth informed the other man, gazing nonchalantly at him. “Alas, I am lacking the door to do so. How unfortunate.”

Byleth pointed towards the drapes hanging in the doorway, reminding Seteth of the door incident and the advisor’s lack of self-control.

“You… insufferable… ” Seteth hissed, his face flashing an angry shade of red, he quickly turned around to try and collect himself. Taking a few moments of deep breathing, Seteth quickly reverted back to facing the younger man once more.

“Fine, have it your way. I left some books on your bed to aid you with your lesson planning, as well as a copy of the textbooks your students have been using. I have marked what chapters they have already been taught so you can have an idea of what they already know.” He replied coldly. He quickly motioned a free arm towards Byleth’s bed, pointing to a large stack of books that sat upon the mattress.

“Your first lecture is at ten a.m. tomorrow. Do not be late.” Seteth continued. “For the students’ sake, I pray you are successful. Quite frankly, I do not believe you will. I imagine you’ll be gone no later by the end of the month. But alas, it is out of my hands. It is up to you to get your bearings together. Good night, Professor Byleth. Only the Goddess can help you now, I’m afraid.”

Byleth watched as Seteth left his room and ventured outside. Turning to his bed, Byleth gazed at the big stack of books lying on top of it, and proceeded to throw them all onto the floor. He then kicked off his boots, sending them flying in different directions and flopped onto his bed, burrowing his head deep in the pillow. A wave of drowsiness began to hit him as he lied there. But as he could feel himself falling, he heard Sothis break her protest of silence in the distance.

“You are a damn fool, Byleth.”

====

The Sealed Forest; a thick wooded forest that lay on the far reaches of the grounds of Garreg Mach Monastery. As the name suggested, it was an area sealed off to the public, and even to many of the monastery’s own. Riddled with dangers and home to a variety of beasts; only a select few were given access to the forest and even fewer who would dare to venture into it.

But even then, there were those who forged their way into the dark woods; slithering in the dark.

In the middle of the night, engulfed in darkness, the Flame Emperor stood in a large clearing, holding a torch. Donned in armor of black and red, their red and white mask hid their identity. This was not their first time in the Sealed Forest, nor would it be their last; but they could not risk being spotted and their identity being revealed, not with the company they regularly kept.

Next to the Flame Emperor, stood another masked individual; a taller man. He wore all black; cloak, hood, and mask. He dressed lightly compared to his companion and could move around much more freely. But the Flame Emperor did not need to worry about speed; as their masked companion would teleport them wherever they needed to go with ease.

The two figures stood silently in the darkness, the two torches they held being the only light providing them any sight. But soon, two torches became three, then four, and finally five. One was the Death Knight; a tall, black armored knight with a ghoulish mask to cover his identity. The remaining two were Solon and Thales; who had both refused to wear masks, much to the Flame Emperor’s frustration. But unlike the Flame Emperor, they were not concerned about their identity.

“It would seem our Emperor as failed their assassination endeavor.” Solon observed, speaking in a condescending manner. “Such a pity.”

“Mind your tongue, you insolent wretch.” the Flame Emperor’s companion exclaimed. The masked man stepped forward to engage with the other; but the Flame Emperor reached out their hand to stop them.

“Enough,” they ordered. The masked man backed off, albeit begrudgingly. The Flame Emperor continued to speak. “Yes, the mercenaries we hired to kill the future heirs of the Faerghus and the Alliance nations failed in their task. Their leader, Kostas is dead. They did succeed in chasing off the Officer Academy’s tactics professor; however, his position was replaced with another.”

“Who was the replacement?” Thales questioned, not too disheartened by the turn of events. Of the two men without masks, Thales was much taller than Solon. White hair and white eyes; the Flame Emperor found him to be unsightly to look at and bore no kinship between either of the two withered, older men.

“The son of Jeralt Reus Eisner, the infamous ‘Blade Breaker.’” The masked man replied, disappointment and concern heard in his voice. “The Blade Breaker and his mercenary crew stumbled upon the assassins as they pursued the nobles and were the ones who thwarted our plans. Now…”

“The Blade Breaker is working for the Church,” the Flame Emperor interjected, their voice remaining calm and composed. “And we have failed to get one of our own within their ranks.”

There was a brief moment of silence as the news began to register for the Flame Emperor’s cohorts.

“I fail to understand why you choose not to kill the heirs yourself, Flame Emperor.” Solon said, his eyes turning to said emperor. “Were you not there during the attack? Could you not have finished the job yourself? Or perhaps your emotions got in the way?”

“I have the resolve to do what is needed,” the Flame Emperor protested, their voice rising in agitation. “The plan was for the bandits to kill the other two, and I was then to kill the remaining bandits and be the only survivor. However, it did not go as planned.

“My only mistake in the plan’s execution was believing the heir to the Leicester Alliance to be a man of character.” The Flame Emperor continued, reliving past memories of the event.

“He is a coward that ran off in the middle of battle, led everyone to the mercenaries, and messed up the plan. I did not attack the other two outright. If there were any surviving witnesses, we would find it very difficult to execute any further plans.”

While the Flame Emperor had initial hesitations for executing the assassination plan, and was partially relieved that it was unsuccessful; in the end it provided more complications than necessary. The Church of Seiros had acquired more allies and Jeritza had failed to rise in the ranks of the monastery’s staff. What was more, the heirs of the other nations were still alive and thus an obstacle they would have to face later.

No, this was not good. Not a complete disaster, but it would take time to salvage the mess. Hiring Kostas and his gang of bandits was a mistake on the Flame Emperor’s part. He was a useless fool who could not even get the job done. At least he was dead and not a risk of giving away vital information to the wrong hands. The Flame Emperor took solace in that.

“What do you know of the Blade Breaker’s son?” Thales questioned, breaking the silence between the group.

“My intel has not yielded much,” the masked man admitted. While his face was covered and could not be seen, his voice gave away his frustration.

“In the recent years, he has gathered some attention and fame under the nickname ‘The Ashen Demon’ and is allegedly ruthless in battle--”

“Lies,” the Death Knight interjected. A tall, intimidating figure; the Death Knight had remained absolutely silent up until then and his sudden protest of fact caught the surprise of the group, particularly that of the Flame Emperor.

“Speak of what you know, Death Knight.” The Flame Emperor instructed. The knight was a violent, unstable man of great bloodlust; but he was someone that followed the Flame Emperor’s orders. Thus, they remained a key ally and asset in their endeavors.

“I have tested his strength against my own.” The Death Knight said, turning his gaze to the rest of the group. “He is weak, as they all are. A fool as well. Say the word and I will strike him down.”

“No,” the Flame Emperor replied. “Our attempt with Kostas and his bandits has already stirred things enough as it is. Any more deaths, and we risk gathering too much attention to ourselves and all could be lost. I do not believe the son to be an issue, regardless.

“I am concerned about the Blade Breaker, however,” The Flame Emperor admitted.

“I can take him,” the Death Knight insisted, he clenched his fist as he imagined the fight between him and the infamous Blade Breaker. Perhaps he could finally find a worthy opponent.

“Absolutely not. His strength is not to be underestimated. You will leave him be for now.” the Flame Emperor ordered, their voice loud and firm.

“In fact,” they continued. “There may be a possibility he could become an ally of ours. The man disappeared under mysterious circumstances from the church years ago. He may not be as loyal to them as we think.”

In truth, the Blade Breaker was an ally they desperately needed. Or rather, the Flame Emperor desperately needed. Their fame and reputation alone would be an instrumental asset, and the Flame Emperor would be one step closer to ridding themselves of the Agarthans.

“Understood, I shall leave it to you.” Thales replied to the Flame Emperor. “We will continue as planned then. Solon will continue working towards finding and creating a proper place of operations. These nightly forest meetings will not suffice forever.

“By the way, this is for you. He sends his regards and laments that he could not be here himself.” Thales stepped forward to hand the Flame Emperor a letter sealed with red wax. They took the letter silently, their mask hiding any and all clue of their emotions; promptly tucked away from sight.

“In due time, all of Fodlan will be cleansed of the filth that has plagued it for centuries. Agartha shall rise once more. All thanks to our great emperor.” Thales regaled as he, Solon and the Death Knight turned to leave.

The Agarthans were vile filth in the eyes of the Flame Emperor; but they were a necessary evil, and one that would have to be tolerated for now. The Flame Emperor and their companion watched the three other torches drifted off into the distance, their flames slowly shrinking away; leaving them with nothing but contempt.

“Disgusting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big shout out + credit to my beta reader Dtale for helping me revamp the duel scene in this chapter and it's so much better now. ;3; <3


	7. Lesson Learned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Been awhile. Hope everyone is doing well. I want to apologize for how long it took to update this fic but there were a few reasons why. First, is the COVID-19 virus pandemic that is going around. You’d think with more time inside I’d be more productive but alas. Stay safe, everyone!
> 
> Second, I got a beta! Big shout out/thanks to Dtale for betaing this fic! We did a big cleanup of all the chapters + this new one which unfortunately took a while. All previous chapters are now properly updated and revised.
> 
> Third, the Cindered Shadows DLC dropped! And the DLC dropped quite a bit of information that I wanted to update to reflect on that (Byleth’s mother’s name, a factor about Dimitri and Edelgard’s relationship that was hinted at but I missed during my playthroughs and it was later confirmed in the DLC) and because of how early it is in the fic, I wanted to go ahead and change it. I realize these changes are probably not gonna be too well received but this is the only time I ever plan to do it, mainly cause of how early on the fic is at and there were some things I got wrong and I wanted to correct them because it’s important for the fic. This fic is canon divergent, but there are some things I did want to keep more faithful to the canon.
> 
> In regards to the DLC, do know that while I’m not going to be covering the specific story content anytime soon (barring name drops), this fic will cover spoilers from it down the line.
> 
> On the bright side, the chapters look so much better now. I highly recommend rereading them if you’re a returning reader to this fic (as of the submission of Ch7). But if you’d rather not I can list the changes for you:  
-Byleth’s mom is changed from 'Lilith' to 'Sitri' to reflect canon.  
-Super minor character name mentioned in some previous chapter, ‘Atalanta’ is changed to ‘Astaroth.’ It’s semi-related to the DLC, but mostly personal preference.  
-Changed the flashback segment in Ch3 and ending segment in Ch6 to properly reflect that Edelgard doesn’t remember Dimitri and the whole “Patricia was his stepmom” is now a proper secret.  
-Duel scene between Byleth and Jeritza was changed to be a more dynamic (thanks Dtale!) and some minor details were changed. But the ending is the same.
> 
> With that out of the way, please enjoy the chapter!

Verdant Wind

Great Tree Moon

Chapter 7: Lesson Learned

====

_Year 1175_

_“Look sharp men. We are entering the area where the previous attacks were reported.”_

_Walking alongside the forest path, Jeralt and his crew were alongside the edge of Sheridale Forest, in the Edmund territory of the Leicester Alliance. Sheridale Forest was not a safe place for most travelers; as it was rumored to be cluttered with Demonic Beasts and people who entered were known to end up dead or missing. But the road that they trekked was one far enough from the dangers of the forest that traders and travelers could safely traverse along. Or at least, it used to be._

_ Jeralt’s entourage consisted of approximately twelve mercenaries, a small handful of brave merchants and two caravans full of trading goods. Walking in front of the group was Jeralt himself, leading the party down the road. At his side, stood his fifteen year old son, Byleth; a boy with less than a year’s worth of mercenary experience under his belt. Having trained his son in combat personally, Jeralt felt confident that the boy was up to the task of the job at hand._

_Hired by Margrave Edmund, Jeralt and his crew were to investigate a string of bandit attacks alongside the territory’s main trade routes; particularly the road to Derdriu. Over the past couple months, the road and its travelers had been subjugated to bandit attacks; targeting various merchants and their caravans of supplies and goods. Margrave Edmund himself had been rising in political ranks in the Leicester Alliance due to his territory’s rapid economic growth, and the margrave was determined to see a stop to the threat against his political success no matter what._

_This was not Byleth’s first job as a mercenary, or working with his father. He had done jobs with his father in the past; but they were on a much smaller scale and in more familiar territory. This was his first gig in the Leicester Alliance. Truthfully, each place he had gone to while working as a mercenary looked strange and foreign to him, nor could he keep track of them all; but this place was…different._

_The trees of the forest were tall, dark and intimidating. There was a foreboding, creepy vibe in the air which Byleth found unsettling. The boy could not wait to get out of this forest as soon as he could, though the trees reminded Byleth of his childhood home, assuaging his feelings of fear. _

_“How are you doing Byleth; you hanging in there?” A voice had suddenly spoken up. Turning to it, Byleth could see that it was Jake, one of the new recruits his father had hired for the mission._

_At nineteen years old, Jake was four years older than Byleth and the second to youngest mercenary in the crew. Jake was of average height for his age; standing a good couple inches taller than Byleth. Short, purple hair stuck out from his head, with magenta eyes and a fair complexion to compliment him. He always had a friendly, inviting expression on his face and an upbeat attitude to go along with it._

_Byleth hated it._

_“I am fine,” Byleth said, trying to ignore his coworker. Jake was not part of their crew long, but already he had worn out his welcome for Byleth. The other boy would constantly target Byleth for socialization, much to Byleth’s frustration._

_“Oh, that’s good.” Jake said, not taking the hint. Or perhaps he was just blatantly ignoring Byleth’s lack of interest. “You know, you are handling yourself pretty well. It’s not often you see someone so young as you--”_

_“Why are you talking to me?” Byleth interjected, snapping at the older boy. If there was one thing Byleth could not stand, it was when other mercenaries brought up his age. Was it truly such a big deal that he was just fifteen years old?_

_“I’m just trying to be friendly.” Jake explained, uneasy about the exchange between the two. His eyes darted about with uncertainty, unsure on how to respond._

_“No, you’re just doing it because Jeralt asked you to.” Byleth argued. It was the only logical conclusion the teal haired boy could come to. After all, why would his father suddenly hire someone so close to Byleth’s age soon after Byleth himself joined the crew._

_“That’s not--”_

_“Leave me alone.” Byleth hissed, interrupting the other boy once more. Soon, their conversation would attract the attention of those around them._

_“Byleth, what is going on?” Jeralt asked, not happy at the news of his son not getting along with his coworkers. Growing up, Byleth had always perceived Jeralt to be the type of parent to not interfere unless absolutely necessary. But once Byleth had joined Jeralt’s crew, Byleth suddenly found his father constantly on his heel about every single little thing._

_“I don’t need a babysitter.” Byleth stated coldly._

_“Jake is not your babysitter, Byleth.” Jeralt explained, turning towards his son. “He is your partner, squad mate and coworker; just like all the other men in this crew. You need to learn to get along with him or I will get someone to babysit you like an actual child. Is that what you want?”_

_“…no.” Byleth murmured, unable to come up with a witty reply._

_“Then act properly.” Jeralt ordered, his once harsh expression beginning to soften. “You’ve been doing so well lately, I don’t know has what set you off--”_

_“Sir, someone is approaching!” One of Jeralt’s mercenaries cried out. The Blade Breaker quickly whipped his head around to observe the group approaching them inthe distance._

_A large, wooden caravan stood out in the distance, led by horses as it trekked along the road; inching closer to Jeralt and his crew. Multiple men could be seen walking alongside the caravan; and as they approached, Byleth could spot their various arms. As Jeralt’s mercenaries began to see this as well, Byleth could feel the tension rapidly rise in the air and heard whispers among the crew._

_“Stay alert and take it slow.” Jeralt commanded, aware of the climbing anxiety of his men. “Don’t engage until I give the order. They’re probably just passing through like we are.” _

_Given the facts of the job and the situation; Byleth did not believe this to be true. But he did not voice his protest, lest he agitate the situation. He watched the approaching group quietly with the rest of the mercenaries as he began to mentally prepare himself for an altercation._

_Suddenly, the caravan came to a stop. The approaching group was only a few yards away, the tension and anxiety coming from both his father and the other mercenaries thick enough to be split with a knife. Soon, a man emerged from the group of strangers. Black hair and brown eyes; he stood at average height but a heavily muscled build. A goatee beard hung from the chin of his angular face; it was a couple inches long with a small, singular braid. The man began to approach Byleth, but more importantly, his father._

_“By the Goddess, is that you, Jeralt?” The other man cried out in surprise. Byleth could see him breaking into a smile as he approached them; walking confidently with little to no apprehension, despite the previous tension. Upon closer inspection, Byleth could see wrinkles on his face. Scars could be seen on his face and throughout his body; some faded by time, others more recent. Byleth guessed the other man to be in his late thirties to early forties._

_“Markus, you son of a bitch.” Jeralt said, his eyes widened in shock and relief. Smiling, Jeralt began to drop his guard at the sight of an old friend. “How many years has it been?”_

_“Ten,” Markus replied, he looked Jeralt up and down as he assessed the other man. “Just look at you; it’s like you have barely aged a day. You lucky bastard.”_

_“Can’t say the same for you; you’ve gotten old, my friend.” Jeralt teased. He paused for a moment as he took a closer look at his old friend. “What in the Eternal Flames is that atrocity on your face?” Jeralt was referring to, of course the braided goatee beard on the man’s face._

_“You like it? My wife loves it.” Markus gloated, fondly stroking his beard. He looked quite proud of it. Byleth could not fathom why, however. At his age, Byleth did not like facial hair; and he doubted he ever would._

_“Honestly, it looks like a rat bit you on the chin and won’t let go.” Jeralt joked, smiling wryly. Suddenly, Byleth heard one of Jeralt’s mercenaries roar in laughter behind him. The other mercenaries began to snicker along in the background. Turning to his side, Byleth saw Jake cover his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter, shaking as he did so. Fortunately, they were not the only ones; as Markus’ own men smiled and chuckled along with them. _

_“Seems your sense of humor hasn’t changed either, huh, Jeralt?” Markus observed, smiling to himself. He paused for a moment before he continued to speak._

_“But I do have to ask; what is with the ankle biter you got there?” Markus asked, pointing to Byleth. “He’s a bit young, ain’t he? The boy is practically still wearing diapers.” _

_The statement brought an annoyed scowl to Byleth’s face. Jeralt just laughed; placing his arm around his son as he pulled him in closer._

_“Markus, this is my son, Byleth.” Jeralt presented proudly, gesturing towards Byleth. “Yeah, he’s a bit on the young side. But he’s a good kid. He does well helping out his old man.” _

_Byleth simply stood there, continuing to scowl at the other man. He hated it when people commented on his age, let alone call him a kid._

_“Oh, so you’re the infamous Byleth?” Markus stated, taking a good look at Byleth. “You know, your father told me a lot about you. You still like mud pies?” _

_Jeralt broke into laughter once more, while Byleth flashed his father a look of betrayal and bewilderment. How did this man know him? What was he talking about? It did not take Jeralt long to compose himself._

_ “Byleth, this man is Markus Singh.” Jeralt explained, gesturing to the other man. “I used to run with him years back on a few jobs before I started my own company. He’s an old friend.” _

_Byleth blankly stared at the other man as he processed his father’s words. It did not answer all of Byleth’s questions; but for now it would suffice._

_“Ah yes, the good ol’ days.” Markus replied, pausing for a moment in thought before he turned his attention back to Byleth. “Did you know kid; your father saved my life? I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for him. He is a good man, and a worthwhile friend.” _

_Byleth silently nodded in response.Truthfully, he did not care about his father’s exploits with the other man. This was not the first old coworker of Jeralt’s that Byleth and his father had run into, nor would it be the last. Byleth knew from experience that nostalgia was the easiest way Jeralt would fall in painfully long conversations; often dragging Byleth with him. The youth knew a social time sink when he saw one. He turned to face Jeralt and glared at him silently. Jeralt took a moment to read his son’s expression, before smiling and patting Byleth on the shoulder._

_“So, where are you and your crew heading to?” Jeralt asked, turning his attention back to Markus._

_“Oh, we’re just off to go pick something up, but after that we will be heading back to Derdriu.”_

_“Is that so?” Jeralt replied. “Well, we are actually heading to Derdriu, ourselves. Why don’t the two of us meet up later at a tavern there and catch up on old times? Drinks are on me.” _

_Byleth quietly sighed to himself in frustration; mentally preparing himself the inevitable cleanup of his father’s drunk antics. _

_“No, not this time Jeralt.” Markus replied, his voice taking on a sudden seriousness. Jeralt was mildly surprised by this, perhaps even a little hurt by the rejection. He removed his arm from Byleth’s shoulders and brought it back towards himself; a posture befitting of Markus’ seriousness._

_“Well, alright. Suit yourself.” Jeralt said. “Just be careful out there. These roads haven’t been safe lately. Bandits have been attacking caravans here for the past months.”_

_“Yes, I know.” Markus replied softly. He cast his eyes downward, sad and regretful._

_Suddenly, four more men dressed in the same manner as Markus’ men appeared. Two on each side of the road; they stepped out from the tree line and onto the road, standing behind Markus. Like the others, they were armed. But unlike the others, they wore masks, covering their identity. Jeralt looked confused by the developing scene at first, but he quickly began to put the pieces together._

_“Markus, don’t tell me--”_

_“If you leave now, Jeralt; you, the merchants, and your men can live.” Markus said, interrupting the other man. He was calm and serious; looking Jeralt straight in the eye as he spoke. “Just drop everything and go. I owe you for saving my life way back when, after all.” _

_Byleth could not help think that the man had an awfully fucked up way of repaying a debt._

_“You know I can’t do that.” Jeralt replied, his composure starting to break and his anger starting to seep out. “A bandit, really, Markus?”_

_“Hey now, that hurts, Jeralt.” Markus replied in jest. “I am still a mercenary, you know. The job pays well. And don’t look at me like that; I need the money.”_

_“You always did.” Jeralt murmured darkly, not taking his eyes off of Markus or his men. As he saw Markus open his mouth to say something, Jeralt quickly cut him off. “And don’t even bother trying to invite me to join your little shit show.”_

_“Suit yourself,” Markus said, sighing heavily. “Just remember as you lay dying that I offered it to you.”_

_At these words, Byleth could hear the sound of swords being unsheathed by Jeralt’s men, getting themselves into position. Markus’ men followed suit and pulled out their weapons. Byleth was about to get into position himself when Jeralt suddenly signaled with his hand for his men to wait. Byleth still kept his hand on the pommel of his sword; ready to unsheathe it at a moment’s notice._

_“You’ve been sloppy, you know.” Jeralt said, glaring at the other man. “You’ve been trying to play it off like random bandit attacks; but it’s obvious that these are planned, specific targets. Who do you work for?”_

_“I appreciate the feedback, Jeralt. I’ll keep it in mind for future endeavors.” Markus replied with a soft chuckle, avoiding an answer._

_“As far as who I work for, well you know I can’t tell you that, Jeralt.” Markus said, casting his eyes downward once again. “Besides, you’re better off not knowing. This is someone you really do not want to mess with.”_

_“What kind of messed up shit have you gotten yourself into, Markus?” Jeralt growled. Byleth could feel the anger and tension radiating off of his father._

_“How sweet of you to worry about me Jeralt, but you know you really should focus more on yourself right now. You and your crew have gotten yourselves in quite a pickle.” He smiled. The man’s face would shift between appearing sad, serious, or mischievous; Byleth was not sure what to make of it. But he knew Markus was dangerous._

_“Jeralt…” Byleth murmured anxiously. He had stayed silent for the whole time, hoping his father could de-escalate the situation, but it was only growing worse._

_“Stand down, Markus. I don’t want to fight you or your men. It doesn’t have to be this way.”_

_“Always the good guy even until the end,” Markus observed. Stepping backwards and behind his men, Markus began to put distance between Jeralt and his crew. “I wish you didn’t come here, Jeralt. And I really wish you didn’t bring your son along either. I hate that I have to kill you both.”_

_“Damn you!” Jeralt cried out. Knowing that any chances of peaceful resolution were gone, Jeralt turned to his crew. “Men, prepare to engage! Get the merchants out of he--”_

_Behind the caravan and in the trees, two loud explosions rang out, piercing the eardrums of those in the vicinity. Two large trees, on each side of the road, came crashing down; blocking the escape route for Jeralt’s crew. Markus’ men did not wait for Jeralt’s men to recover their bearings as they quickly began to make way towards their direction._

_“Shit!” Jeralt cursed, turning back towards the rapidly approaching enemy forces. Byleth quickly drew his sword from the sheath. Other members of Jeralt’s crew quickly stepped forward towards the front line, creating a wall of men straight across. Standing in position next to his father and Jake; Byleth prepared himself for the confrontation._

_What happened next was chaos. Markus’ men came charging in at a rapid pace. In the blink of an eye, Byleth found himself suddenly on the defensive; blocking a blow from an enemy’s axe with his sword. Byleth continued to block the bandit’s strikes with his sword until he found an opening. Spotting it, Byleth quickly pierced the bandit in the abdomen with his sword, and promptly kicked him to the ground. Despite his victory, Byleth did not have time to rest as another bandit soon came rushing towards him, forcing Byleth to fight on._

_While the fight did not start in the favor of Jeralt or his crew, the scales were easily tipped As steel clashed against steel, bodies began to drop. Byleth held his own in battle, occasionally getting some help from his father or Jake. When he had a moment to spare, Byleth saw that Markus’ forces were soon thinning out and the skirmish was almost over. But he was not the only one to see that; Byleth watched in the distance as Markus began to back off into the woods._

_ “He’s getting away,” Byleth said in mild annoyance. Looking around him, he could see the others in the crew busy fighting. Worried that Markus would get away amidst the chaos; Byleth bolted, running after the man._

_“Byleth, wait!” Jeralt cried out, but Byleth ignored the warning and continued to follow Markus, entering the forest._

_Pushing his way through shrubs, branches, bushes and other forest debris; Byleth caught up with the older man rather easily. Quickly turning around to see who his pursuer was, Markus flashed a look of disappointment and annoyance._

_“You know, you are just like your father.” Markus said, sword in his hand. “Either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid; it’s hard to tell.You that eager to die?”_

_Byleth did not reply, instead lunging at the other man with his sword. The experienced mercenary deftly blocked the blow with little difficulty, despite Byleth’s agility. The boy continued his assault and unleashed strike after strike against Markus; the older man either blocking the blows or simply dodging them. For each strike dodge or blocked; Markus found himself stepping backwards, Byleth slowly gaining the upper hand and pushing him back._

_Suddenly, Markus felt his foot collide with a large root, tripping him. His sword slipped out of his hand and fell behind Byleth, leaving him unarmed. With Markus on the ground, Byleth quickly pointed his blade towards the man’s throat. Having recognized that he was at the boy’s mercy; Markus promptly lifted his hands upwards in surrender._

_“Guess I underestimated you, huh? Good job, kid.” He said, worn out and breathing heavily. But listen, I don’t want to die here. This job; it ain’t worth dying for. Right?” _

_Byleth did not reply nor flinch; keeping his sword steady and ensuring his advantage with some choice steps forward._

_“Wait, wait wait! Listen, I’m serious!” Markus cried out desperately. “I have a family! I even have a kid myself; a daughter. She’s a lot younger than you, but you remind me of her in a way. She just turned five. Sweet kid. You don’t want to take her father away from her, do you? Cause you don’t have to; I surrender.”_

_Byleth did not believe for a second that this man’s daughter was anything like him, and there was a good chance that the story of him having a family was made up anyway. The thought of taking away some child’s father did make him hesitate somewhat; but he kept his sword up._

_“Look, I’ll prove it to you, okay?” Markus said, motioning towards his pocket. “She drew me a picture before I left. It’s in one of my pockets. Is it alright if I look for it?” _

_Byleth peered at him for a moment, but eventually nodded silently. He kept his sword pointed at the other man._

_“Great, great.” The older man said, as he began to nervously rummage around in his pockets. “She’s not very good, I’ll admit. In fact, she’s quite terrible. But she’s my little girl and--”_

_“Byleth!” a voice in the distance cried out, interrupting the man. Instinctively, Byleth turned around for a second to glance at the general direction of the voice; but a second was all Markus needed. Pulling out a small dagger on the back end of his belt, Markus leapt forward and plunged the dagger into Byleth’s thigh while the boy was distracted._

_“Ah!” Byleth cried out, feeling a sudden jolt enter his thigh. Dropping his sword from his hand, he instinctively reached towards his thigh; feeling the pommel of the dagger as he tried to process the situation. He had been stabbed. Byleth had never been stabbed before. A great, burning heat suddenly erupted from the wound, startling the boy._

_“Sorry kid, nothing personal,” Markus scoffed, watching Byleth for a moment, only to turn around and get up from the earthy floor. As adrenaline began to sink in and numb the pain, Byleth’s mind began to race as he watched Markus try to get away again. Determined to stop him, Byleth impulsively yanked the dagger out of his thigh and charged towards Markus. _

_With dagger in hand, Byleth ran the man through, piercing Markus’ neck. Byleth tried to strike him again before an excruciating pain surged through his whole body stopping him, his legs giving out on him._

_Byleth writhed in agony. The sharp, burning pain was nothing like what he felt before; he felt like he was dying. Clutching the dagger in his hand, Byleth soon realized something; he had taken the blade out of the wound. He was not supposed to do that._

_In full panic mode, Byleth took the hole in the fabric of his pants and stretched it further so he could take a good look at the wound. For such a small weapon, the pain of the wound was unbearable. Byleth watched as blood leaked out of the entry point to the wound; but he could not determine how much he was bleeding. With all the blood around him and on him; he could only assume the worst. Placing both hands on the opening, Byleth did his best to apply all the pressure he could._

_“Byleth!” A voice rang out behind him. Byleth whipped his head around to see Jake rushing towards him. Never in his life had Byleth been so relieved to see another person come running to him, least Jake of all people._

_“I’m gonna die,” Byleth blurted out in fear, his face paler than even his typical pale skin._

_“Let me see the wound.”_

_“No, no, no, I have to keep the pressure on. I’m going to bleed out if I don’t.” Byleth insisted, sweating profusely._

_“Byleth, I can help. I can heal your wound; but you have to let me see it.” Jake said, remaining calm and composed. Silently and reluctantly, Byleth finally removed both hands from covering the wound._

_“Well, good news is that you’re not dying. The wound isn’t even that bad, honestly. Hurts like crazy though, don’t it?” Hovering a free hand over the wound, Jake quickly began to cast healing magic. Byleth could feel a light stinging sensation as the wound began to close._

_“How is that possible when there is so much blood?” The boy asked, still recovering from the shock._

_“Byleth, I don’t think most of this is even your blood.” Jake then nudged his head towards a familiar figure._

_Leaning against a tree, sat Markus. A sea of red cascaded down his right side, drenching his clothes in blood. Using his left hand, Markus tried to stop the bleeding in his neck; but it was useless. Color was beginning to rapidly drain from his face._

_“Good job kid…you got me.” He said with a soft chuckle. His breathing was starting to slow down and become heavy. As he was getting patched up, Byleth silently watched the life drain out of the man. There was no joy or satisfaction in this, nor did Byleth feel any pity towards the man; instead he just felt empty._

_“Miranda…Lyla…” The man whispered over and over again. Eventually, he would stop all together; lying motionless against the tree. By the time Jake had finished healing Byleth, Markus had slumped over, expression unreadable._

_“Byleth! Byleth, are you okay?!” It was Jeralt, looking incredibly worried and concerned. Aside from looking a little banged up and disheveled; he seemed fine._

_“Don’t worry sir, he’s alright.” Jake said, smiling to himself. “A little worse for wear, but he’ll make it through. Right, Byleth?” _

_Byleth let out a grunt in response. Jeralt let out a sigh of relief._

_ “Good,” Jeralt said, suddenly switching to an angry and disappointed expression. “Cause after that little stunt you just pulled; Byleth your ass his heading straight home after we get back to Derdriu.” _

_“What?! But I can do this,” Byleth protested, the shock from his wound traded for surprise at his father’s harsh order._

_“Obviously, you can’t. You can’t follow simple orders, Byleth.” Jeralt explained to his son. “Running off like what you did back there? That will get you killed. What if this had been an ambush? You would be dead.”_

_“But I’m not dead. I ran after him because he was running away.”_

_“Our job was to protect the merchants, escort them, and handle any bandits along the way. Killing Markus would’ve just been someone else’s problem if he had gotten away.”_

_“Are you sure you didn’t just want him to get away?” Byleth said, his tone starting to grow agitated. “He was your friend. Maybe you wanted him to slip away, so you wouldn’t have to kill him.” _

_There was a moment of silence as Jeralt silently processed the words that came out of his son’s mouth; almost not wanting to believe the words that he heard._

_“Damn you, Byleth.” Jeralt whispered harshly. An angry, pained expression ran across Jeralt’s face; catching even Byleth by surprise. While he did not let it show, Byleth almost felt bad for what he had said. Byleth could not say for sure if he had hit the nail on the head or completely missed the mark, but whatever the case; he had clearly gone too far._

_ “Sir, if I may.” Jake nervously interrupted, hoping to ease the growing animosity. “This has been an unusual day. This fight was rather personal for the both of you. Markus threatened you specifically; I can easily see why Byleth was so determined to see him taken care of. If he had gotten away, he could have come back at a later time for revenge._

_“You said so yourself earlier,” Jake continued. “Byleth has been doing well up until now. While it’s true he definitely should not have run off on his own like that, he still took down Markus by himself. Might be worth giving Byleth a second chance.”_

_Listening to Jake’s words, Jeralt stopped for a moment to think. He began to pace back and forth as he thought silently to himself; glaring at Byleth occasionally as he did so. Finally, he stopped and took a long, heavy sigh before he broke his silence._

_“Fine. But only on one condition,” Jeralt said, pointing to his son. “Byleth, anywhere Jake goes; you go.” _

_“What does that--” Byleth sputtered in confusion._

_“Shut up,” Jeralt snapped, interrupting his son. His patience was long gone by that point. “Byleth, you get one more shot. You mess up again and I swear I will take you back home and leave you there._

_“Jake,” Jeralt said, turning towards the young man. “I know this isn’t in your contract when I hired you, but can I count on you to keep an eye on my son so he doesn’t get himself killed?”_

_“Yes, sir.” Jake saluted, raising his hand to his brow._

_“Thank you,” Jeralt sighed, looking a little relieved ._

_“Wait, why can’t I just follow you? Why do I have to follow him?” While Byleth was certainly grateful for Jake’s help in patching him up; he had no desire to be around the guy constantly. Jake talked too much._

_“Byleth, my job is to lead this crew.” Jeralt said, looking Byleth straight in the eye. “I can’t do that if I’m constantly having to keep eyes on you because I’m worried you’re gonna run off again. My trust in you is gone. You are going to have to work at it to get it back. In the meantime, you are his shadow. If you have a problem with that, you can go home.”_

_Jeralt turned to Markus. Gazing upon the lifeless body of his former friend, Jeralt could only just let out a heavy sigh. So much blood spilled, and for what? Walking towards the body, Jeralt crouched down and began to search Markus’ pockets._

_“What are you doing?” Byleth asked, staring in confusion as his father inspected the corpse._

_“Looking for an employment contract,” Jeralt answered. “Whoever hired Markus will just find someone else to attack the merchants in due time. If I could just find a name--ah!”_

_Out of Markus’ pockets, Jeralt pulled a folded piece of paper, partially covered in blood. Quickly and eagerly, Byleth watched as his father opened the paper and waited for a response. But it never came. Instead, Jeralt quietly sat there, just staring at the paper. From his position, Byleth could not see what was on the paper, nor could he see his father’s face. At first, he assumed his father was just reading a long document, but as the silence dragged on he began to suspect that was not the case._

_ “As he was dying, he mentioned two names; ‘Lyla’ and ‘Miranda.’” Byleth said, remembering the fact. It was not common, but it would not be completely unheard of for women to hire bandits._

_“Miranda was his wife’s name. Lyla was his daughter.” Jeralt murmured. Oh. That made sense, Byleth realized. More sense, actually._

_Abruptly standing upward, Jeralt tossed the blood drenched paper aside with a huff and angrily turned around. Walking briskly, The Blade Breaker passed by both Byleth and Jake without a single glance or regard, thoughts elsewhere as he returned to where the caravans and the rest of the mercenaries waited._

_ “Markus, you damn idiot!” Jeralt cursed under his breath, Byleth looking on curiously. What had his father found that upset him so much. A cursory glance for the dropped parchment ensued._

_“We should get going, too.” Jake said, pulling Byleth upwards with his free hand. He motioned towards the direction of the caravans. “When we get back, I’ll give you some vulneraries to prevent infect—Byleth where are you going?”_

_Jake watched as Byleth awkwardly limped away from him; not even ten minutes in, and Byleth was already breaking the deal he made with his father. But to Jake’s surprise, Byleth suddenly stopped. Wincing in pain as he leaned downwards, Byleth picked up the paper that Jeralt had tossed aside and opened it._

_But as Byleth peered at the paper, it left him with more questions than answers. _

====

4/21, Year 1180

Nobody liked Mondays. The heralding of the new week meant the return of the long, painful grind of work after a couple days of respite. For the students of the Officer’s Academy, it was no exception.

Early morning in the dining hall, the majority of the student body appeared barely awake, visibly agitated, or down-right asleep. The ones not present were probably in their dormitories, trying to get as much last minute sleep as they could possibly squeeze out.

Claude von Riegan himself was one of the many victims of the Monday Morning Blues. Having stayed up late last night reading about Fodlan’s history, Claude had damned himself to feeling exhausted that morning and struggled to keep his eyes open. While he had managed to drag himself through the food line, he was so tired that he was not even sure what he ordered. Slowly, he shuffled over to the Golden Deer House table.

And what a sight it was.

Never in his life had Claude seen such a collection of pitiful faces; at least not all together like this. He could feel the radiating gloom as he approached the table, leaving him almost afraid to sit down. He sat on the right side of the table near the end, with Leonie on his right and Raphael on his left. Both Leonie and Raphael were staring at a pile of parchments and letters; rapidly shuffling through them or marking things down. Leonie was unusually worked up, while Raphael looked uncharacteristically stressed and overwhelmed.

Across from Leonie, sat Marianne. Next to her and right across Claude was a spare space, usually where Hilda sat. The circles around Marianne’s eyes were darker than usual and the girl looked absolutely exhausted. Even just looking at her, Claude felt all the more tired. Unlike the others, she did not have a plate of food in front of her, and along with Hilda’s absence; Claude could only assume that Hilda went off to get food for her. She often did that for the other girl, as Marianne had a tendency to skip meals or just barely eat at all if left to her own devices.

Next to Hilda’s spot and across from Raphael, sat Lorenz. While Claude’s roommate had a poor taste in haircuts; Lorenz was typically well groomed and presentable no matter the time or the occasion, except today.

Today, Lorenz had such a bad case of bedhead that it looked like rats burrowed in his bowl cut shaped hair and had a litter of babies. His clothes were unkempt and disheveled; something he normally would chastise others about. Wincing in pain, Lorenz pinched the bridge of his nose tightly; likely still suffering from the migraine he had complained about earlier. 

Sitting next to Lorenz, was Lysithea. Out of everyone else at the table, she looked the most “normal.” Deep within a large, fat book; she was engrossed in her reading as she stuffed her face with her meal, which consisted of mostly sweets. Across from her and next to Raphael, Ignatz sat. The poor boy was out cold, dead asleep. It seemed that he might have simply face-planted into his meal, had Raphael not pushed it out of the way. The boy’s hands had bits of colour on them, as if he was painting

“Good morning to you all too. I see we are all in a lovely mood today.” Claude said, commenting despite nobody at the table greeting him. He flashed a cheeky smile at his peers, although no one bothered to smile back.

“Ugh, just stop talking, Claude. You’re enough of an eyesore already.” Lorenz groaned. Claude rolled his eyes.

“Say, what’s up with you, Raphael?” Claude said, poking the larger boy beside him. “You are normally overflowing with pep and positivity in the morning. What’s got you so stressed?”

“These letters I got are bills from back home; caretaking fees for my little sister Maya.” Raphael said, lifting the documents and rearranging them as he spoke.

“The rest are letters from the bank stating how much money we have left and it’s not good. This year’s school expenses took out a lot more than I was expecting and now we are really tight on money.” Raphael remained looking grim as he spoke. It looked like he tried to be as cheery as usual, but it just wasn’t working.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Claude said. Raphael was a good guy. Simple-minded and more brawn than brain; but Claude found him rather pleasant to be around. To see the big guy down was like looking at a sad puppy.

“Oh, it’s fine.” Raphael replied uneasily. “I’ll figure it out. I just forgot how complicated all this finance stuff was! But hey, if my parents could do it; I can too, right? Besides, once I become a knight; we’ll be swimming in gold!”

“That’s the right attitude.” Claude said, praising the other boy’s optimism. “Yeah, don’t worry, you’ll figure it out. It’ll just take some…time.”

But as Claude sneaked a peak at the documents in front of the other boy, he knew he was lying through his teeth. Based on the numbers he saw, Claude knew that Raphael was not going to be “swimming in gold” any time soon. Claude did not know the earnings of a knight on hand, but he doubted it would be able to help his classmate’s financial situation overnight. This would take some time and a lot of work, unfortunately. But Raphael did not need to hear this, at least not right now.

“What about you, Leonie? What’s got you so miffed?” Claude swung around to the girl, hoping to change the topic at hand. It did not take much to agitate the girl, but she seemed extra cranky today. Claude himself was feeling rather bored and curious; a dangerous combination for most. He took a bite out of an apple as he finished the savoury parts of his meal.

“I sent out applications to be an apprentice for these mercenary guilds and they all rejected me!” Leonie angrily exclaimed. She let out a heavy groan of frustration.

“Uh, isn’t it a bit early to be sending those out? Your third year just started.” Claude knew Leonie was the hardworking go-getter type, but this seemed a bit too much.

“I have to send them out way earlier, because come next spring, any available spots will be all gone! They go by so fast and once I’m done with the Officer’s Academy; I have to get to work straight away.” As she spoke, Leonie began rapidly flipping through papers and writing notes down on how to improve; her attention to the conversation only half-hearted at best.

“Why?” Claude failed to see what the big hurry was.

“Because, Claude, I am in debt,” Leonie explained, rubbing her temples as she spoke. Raphael flashed a sympathetic look. 

“I thought you said your tuition was paid by your village?”

“It was,” Leonie confirmed. Closing her eyes, she paused for a moment before continuing to speak.

“But in the Alliance, you have to pay the nobles a fee for education, which is stupid by the way. My family had to put a lot of money down for it and now they’re financially tight. Everything is riding on how well I do here. The sooner I can start working, the quicker the relief of financial pressure.”

Leonie’s worries made sense. Claude could not help but think the girl was worrying too much about it; but the logic was there. Claude remained silent as he waited for the girl to continue.

“Even today, I got a letter from my mom’s stupid boyfriend telling me it’s my fault that he and my mom have to delay their wedding ceremony and --argh! I hate him so much!” Leonie cried out in frustration, crushing some of the documents in her hands. Frantically, she flattened and uncrumpled them on the table.

“Yeah, he sounds like a real jerk,” Claude nodded. He knew the type too; he knew it all too well.

“But hey, you’re doing really well academically. Once you graduate, I bet you’ll get an apprenticeship in no time.” Claude assured her. When it came to personality, Leonie fluctuated between friendly and approachable to coarse and abrasive. She had a big chip on her shoulder, but she was also incredibly skilled, diligent and hardworking. Claude could not see her having trouble getting work once she graduated. In the meantime, she just needed to learn to relax.

“I would just sleep better at night if I could get an arrangement made sooner rather than later.” She mumbled.

Having finished his apple during their conversation, Claude placed the core back on his plate and began to bite into a muffin. Suddenly, a familiar face appeared before their table. It was Hilda, carrying two plates of food with her and looking like a hot mess. Her hair was frizzy, her clothes untidy, and makeup half-done; needless to say, she did not look like her usual self.

“Speaking of sleeping,” Claude said, turning to his pink haired friend. “How was ‘Operation: Snoozefest?’ Were you two successful?”

He was of course referring to the objective Hilda had of helping Marianne sleep. The young heiress to House Edmund had a bad case of insomnia; she would sometimes be up for days at a time and it would negatively impact her health and daily functioning. Hilda, her roommate and friend, was concerned about it and asked her fellow Golden Deer students previously if they had any suggestions for how to cure it.

“What does it look like, Claude?” Hilda snapped, something the girl rarely did. Upon closer inspection, Claude could see some faint dark shadows under her eyes, although they were nowhere near as bad as Marianne’s. It seemed they were, in fact, unsuccessful, after all.

“Yeesh, snippy today, aren’t we?” Claude frowned. While he viewed Hilda as a lazy, superficial kind of girl, she was normally pretty friendly. But she was certainly not today.

“I’m sorry, Claude.” Hilda said, looking apologetic. “I was just up late last night and I am annoyed nothing worked. Here you go, Marianne.”

Finally sitting down at the table, Hilda placed a large plate of food in front of Marianne. Her roommate was silent, merely looking uncomfortable at the large amount of food in front of her. Marianne had a hard time eating anything consistently, so Hilda’s tactic was just to get large portions of food as a way to coax her to eat it. But Claude found that it often had the opposite effect, and the other girl was usually too intimidated to eat any of it.

“Did you get any sleep?” Claude asked.

“I passed out around midnight. Marianne said she didn’t get a wink.” Hilda replied, shoving a biscuit in her mouth.

“Did you try that home remedy I mentioned?”

In truth, it was not actually a “home remedy,” as much as it was a popular Almyran recipe used for inducing sleep. It was a combination of various roots and herbs grinded together that tasted so bad the taste alone could knock anyone out. Or so his father liked to say. Claude himself never had the pleasure, or displeasure rather, of trying it himself.

“Yeah, we did. It tasted disgusting, by the way.” She said, making a sour face. “We also tried Lorenz’s chamomile tea blend, we tried hot milk, we tried exercising--well Marianne tried exercising, I sat that one out. But otherwise, you name it; we tried it. I even tried singing Marianne a lullaby!”

“I bet it sounded lovely.” Lorenz said, injecting himself into the conversation awkwardly. He had remained dead silent up until now and Claude knew why.

Lorenz rather fancied Hilda, or rather, fancied her family specifically. Claude’s roommate was very class-conscious and always actively seeking ways to improve his family’s social standing. Hilda’s brother, Holst Goneril, was a very popular figure in the Alliance lately due to his successful defenses against Almyran invasions; most of which actually weren’t actual invasions by the Almyran military, but merely skirmishes by smaller, lesser factions.

Nonetheless, Lorenz was hot to trot to marry into the Goneril family, and was very obvious about his intentions. Unfortunately for him, Hilda was not impressed by the fact he was trying to woo her so he could get closer to her brother. Lorenz continued to remain oblivious of this fact, much to Claude’s delight. It was hilarious.

“You were way too loud. Leonie and I could you all the way in our room. It is no wonder Marianne couldn’t sleep.” Peering up from her book, Lysithea decided to interject herself into the conversation as well. Claude was almost surprised, as she usually kept to herself at the table.

“At last, she speaks!” Claude exclaimed, playing up the occasion, smiling to himself. “How are you, Lysithea? Reading a good book?”

“Mind your own business!” The white haired girl hissed. Claude was not surprised.

While Lysithea herself was a prickly, bratty girl in general; for whatever reason, she was especially ornery to Claude. He was not sure why, either. He enjoyed teasing her at times, mostly because she was so reactive, but also because she reminded him of someone he missed from back home. But Claude did not think he said anything to her that was worthy of so much scorn.

“Well regardless,” Hilda said, bringing back the conversation to her. “Nothing worked and now I feel like a lousy roommate.”

“I’m sorry, Hilda.” Marianne murmured, finally speaking up after all this time. Staring down at her lap, Marianne was so embarrassed and ashamed that she couldn’t even bring herself to look at her classmates.

“Oh, it’s not your fault, Marianne! Don’t worry, we’ll figure out this insomnia thing together. Now, make sure to eat up, okay?” Hilda replied, hoping to encourage the other girl.

Claude did not know Marianne well, admittedly, but even he could plainly see that the girl was troubled. He was not sure exactly what ailed her, but she certainly carried around a lot of baggage. If the insomnia she had was in any way connected to her emotional problems, well, Claude didn’t see either of them “figuring it out” anytime soon. But he kept that thought to himself.

“I-I don’t think I can…” Marianne stammered. She looked at the food in front of her, but cowered as she kept looking, quite intimidated by it.

As far as Claude could tell, Marianne seemed to have no problems with the food at Garreg Mach itself. When he first met Marianne, Claude thought she was afraid of eating out of fear of being poisoned. Growing up, this was one of Claude’s struggles after his father was crowned king. Given that Marianne was the daughter of Margrave Edmund, whose finances and political influence has been rising at a rapid rate in the last couple of years; so Claude assumed this was her reason. Ironically, it turned out that dying was one of Marianne’s least concerns.

“Please, Marianne? For me?” Hilda pleaded, flashing a sorrowful look. Ah, the timeless classic; good ol’ manipulation. Hilda was good at it, too. Primarily, she used the tactic to get people to do things for her that she did not want to do; but she sometimes used it with Marianne, albeit for slightly more noble intentions. 

“Why did you get her so much food?” Leonie interjected, having watched and listened in on the other girls’ conversation, she decided to speak up and did not stop there.

“You know she can’t eat all that. Worst of all, she won’t even try. It’ll just be thrown out and wasted again.” Leonie scowled at the thought.

Oh, boy. Now she had done it.

An awkward and tense silence hung over their table. Most of the other Golden Deer third year students were wide eyed and frozen in surprise; shocked that Leonie would say such a thing to Marianne. Claude winced painfully and merely sighed softly. For a while, Claude had expected Leonie would bring the issue up; given how damn stingy the girl was and even got on him once for not finishing his plate. But given how everyone was in a terrible mood; the timing in particular was awful.

“I-I’m sorry,” Marianne stammered profusely, too ashamed to look up at her peers. “Forgive me, I-I…”

Without warning, the blue haired girl swiftly stood from her seat and left the table, heading straight for the exit doors of the dining hall. Hilda jumped up trying to stop the other girl, but Marianne slipped through her grasp and quickly left the exit of the dining hall.

“Marianne, wait!” Hilda cried out. But she was too late, Marianne was gone.

Turning to Leonie, Hilda glared at her, lifting her arm upwards in a tight fist. For a split second, it looked like she was going to punch the other girl. Claude tried to stop the pink haired girl, but she was too fast. But as her fist quickly descended downwards, it was not Leonie who was her target.

A loud cracking noise was the first thing Claude heard. Suddenly wood chippings went flying and were everywhere as Hilda slammed her fist through the table, shaking it. Pieces of wood hit the floor; making the occasional clunking noise. In the corner of his eye, Claude could see that multiple people in the dining hall were staring at the scene.

“You better watch yourself, Leonie.” Hilda threatened, retracting her arm from the table. A large hole was left behind from the wreckage. As Claude watched Hilda walk away, he made a mental note to himself to never, ever piss off that girl.

“What is wrong with her?!” Leonie exclaimed, having recovered from the initial shock.

“You know Marianne struggles with eating. Hilda is only trying to help her. You didn’t have to be rude to Marianne, you know.” Claude replied in a low voice. Oh, what a mess this was.

“Marianne isn’t a child. She can take care of herself.” Leonie argued. “If she can’t; the last thing she needs is someone baby-ing her. People like that need to grow up.”

“You are the one that needs to grow up, Leonie.” Lorenz angrily interjected, mumbling under his breath. Without another word, Claude’s roommate promptly departed from his seat at the table and left the dining hall in quite a huff.

“What’s his problem?” Leonie asked. Picking stray wood chips off of his plate, Claude could not help but wonder the same thing. Claude knew that Lorenz didn’t like Leonie, but the way he reacted seemed…personal. Interesting.

For the remainder of breakfast, the table to Claude and his housemates was dead silent. The only exception being the occasional sound of Ignatz snoring loudly as he slept; oblivious to the drama that had just unfolded.

====

With Sothis to guide him, Byleth arrived at the lecture hall on time. When he got there, the seats were full of students; and all seemed to be accounted for. The students were quietly talking amongst themselves as they waited; the lecture hall full of hushed whispers. They remained completely oblivious to the fact that their new professor had entered the room. Byleth could see Seteth and Rhea sitting in the back row by themselves, their attention calmly turning towards Byleth, evaluating. Emerging from his seat, Seteth approached Byleth and led him towards the front of the room.

“Settle down, everyone.” Seteth called out, waiting for the conversations to come to a close. A few students quietly scrambled back to their seats while others turned around and faced the professors standing in front of them.

“As you all know, today is your first lecture with Professor Byleth. I know that this year has had a turbulent start, but rest assured things will return to normal and your regular academic scheduling will proceed as planned.” He started, perfectly poised, not an inch of his attire disheveled in the slightest.

“I would also like to remind all of you that here at the Officer’s Academy, we expect all students to remain alert, courteous and give respect to the person speaking to you. While our new professor is close to your age, he is still your teacher and you are to treat him as such.” For one reason or another, the advisor’s gaze had drifted to Dorothea as he spoke.

“With all that said and done; the floor is yours, Professor Byleth. Good luck.” Seteth finished, patting Byleth on the shoulder before he returned to the back row where Rhea sat.

The advisor leaving him left Byleth rather dumbfounded. That was it? No instructions on what to talk about or clue as to what he was supposed to do? Byleth had expected something, at least. He had never given a lecture in his entire life, let alone attended one. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t even remember the subject he was supposed to teach.

As Byleth stared out in the sea of faces, the truth quickly began to dawn on him; he fucked up. Royally fucked up, even. He had grossly underprepared for the occasion and had absolutely no idea what he was doing. As panic and nervousness started to seep in, Byleth could feel his stomach begin to churn, sweat starting to culminate on his brow.

“Byleth, you cannot just stand there and do nothing. You have to say something, anything!” Sothis cried out, floating at Byleth’s eye level. This was the first time she had spoken to him all day. She had been on a silent strike of some sort, ignoring him and refusing to speak to him since the morning. It seemed the situation was so dire that she was willing to break her protest just to aid the pitiful young man.

“Um…” It was all Byleth could get himself to say. The pressure was starting to get to him, and he struggled to speak. The students began to look concerned and confused at his floundering, wondering what in the world he was doing.

Not wanting to look at their faces, Byleth quickly turned around and noticed the chalkboard behind him. Grabbing a piece of chalk on the wooden shelf next to it, Byleth began to nervously write his name on the board, better than trying to do a non-existent lecture. As he finished, Byleth could hear a faint echo of giggles behind him. He turned to Sothis looking confused. What was so funny?

“Byleth, look at it again.” Sothis instructed, gesturing towards the chalkboard. Doing so, Byleth could see what the fuss was about. In his nervousness, Byleth accidentally wrote his first name twice. Flustered, Byleth quickly erased the mistake. Placing the chalk back on the shelf, Byleth silently tried to rack his brain for ideas of how to salvage this terrible situation.

“Oh, I know!” Sothis exclaimed, interrupting Byleth’s thoughts. “Ask if they have any questions!”

“Does anyone have any questions?” Byleth called out, quickly turning around to face the students. As hands quickly rose up, Byleth could only let out a heavy sigh of relief. Maybe there was a goddess who could salvage the situation after all.

“You,” Byleth said, pointing to the tall red haired boy from the Blue Lions house.

“So did you sleep with Manuela, Professor?” Sylvain replied, flashing a cocky grin. A few students began to snicker at the question.

“No,” Byleth said, grimacing at the suggestion. Not this shit again. Sothis floated beside him with a surprised look on her face..

Hoping to quickly change the subject, Byleth pointed to a pink haired girl from the Golden Deer house that had her hand raised.

“Well...did you sleep with Professor Hanneman?” Hilda asked, barely keeping her face straight as she spoke. More snickering and chuckles could be heard throughout the lecture hall, notably much louder. Byleth just rolled his eyes. It really wasn’t that funny. Next to him, Sothis began to stir.

“What amusing jests! As if you would do such things with those bizarre individuals. Your students certainly have quite the imagination.” Sothis said, floating towards the students as she began to inspect them individually. Up close, the green haired girl examined each student; the students completely oblivious to their flying spectator.

“Students, please remember to keep all questions appropriate and academic related.” Seteth said from the back of the lecture hall. He flashed a stern look at the students, as he tried to rein in on the foolish fun the students were trying to have. Byleth took the opportunity to speak up.

“The answer is no. Someone simply made a wrong assumption of the situation,” Byleth replied, glaring at Seteth. Seteth proceeded to glare back, until Rhea turned to him and said something. Flustered, Seteth began to nervously relay something to Rhea, which Byleth could not hear at the distance but had no doubt she was inquiring as to what Byleth was talking about. Not waiting for those two to finish, Byleth pointed to a young, light blue haired boy from the Black Eagles house who had his hand raised.

“Is there going to be homework? Please, tell me there isn’t going to be homework.” Caspar begged, looking desperately at Byleth. It was his first actual academic-related question, and Byleth had no clue how to answer.

“Probably not?” Byleth murmured with uncertainty. Byleth was not sure if he was required to give the students homework or not, but if he had the choice in the matter he would choose not to. Probably. After all, that would be more work for him to create the homework and then grade it, wouldn’t it? If so, he’d rather sleep.

“Yes!” Caspar cheered, throwing his arms upwards in enthusiasm. Byleth watched as other students began to light up at the prospect of no homework for the class. Byleth was not surprised.

“Caspar, that is nothing worth celebrating.” Linhardt said, lifting his head up from his desk where he was previously napping. “All it means is that the tests are going to be worth more of your grade. At least the homework can be done from the textbooks.”

“Yeah, but at least I can study for tests! Homework is such a pain!” Caspar said, flashing a face of disgust at the thought.

“Caspar, I am most certain you haven’t studied a day in your life.” Edelgard bluntly stated, interjecting herself into the conversation. “Whatever homework you do hand in is just pawned off to Linhardt to--”

“Ahh! Shhh! Edelgard, shh! Zip it!” Caspar aggressively whispered, pressing his index finger on his pursed lips as he hushed the other girl. With the subtlety of a wet fart, he began to point towards the direction of Seteth and Rhea, reminding the other girl of their presence. Edelgard just sighed in response at Caspar and his foolish antics.

“That little one isn’t very bright, is he?” Sothis noted, partially amused. The green haired girl had returned to Byleth’s side at the front center of the Lecture Hall and was enthralled with the lively chatter the students had amongst themselves.

“Um, excuse me.” Lysithea loudly interjected, not bothering to wait for Byleth’s approval. Byleth thought she was still sitting until he realized she was just that short. “Can we stop goofing around and start the lecture already?! Believe it or not, some of us are actually here to learn.”

“Uh, I was not able to prepare for today’s lecture.” Byleth nervously said, casting his eyes to the side. He could not even bring himself to look at his audience now that they were expecting some academic content. A faint murmur could be heard throughout the lecture hall as the students began to digest the information. Suddenly a familiar voice rang out from the back row.

“Professor Byleth, from my knowledge, what you just said is incorrect. Could you please repeat that once more?” Rhea called out from her seat. All eyes of the students whipped from the archbishop back to Byleth as they waited for their professor’s answer. Shocked, Byleth turned his head towards Rhea to see if she had perhaps been joking. But Rhea was not wearing her usual peaceful smile. No, she was serious. There was no weaseling out of this situation. Shit.

“Yesterday, I chose not to prepare for today’s lecture and believed I could improvise. I was…sorely mistaken.” Fearing the consequences of not giving an answer that Rhea approved of, Byleth begrudgingly confessed the truth. Byleth knew how it sounded and what it made him look like. Any other time he would’ve just not given a damn; but standing in front of the students in the lecture hall, Byleth felt oddly vulnerable. He hated it.

“If only you had listened to me...” Sothis stated, flashing a smug smile at the scene before her, reveling in Byleth’s comeuppance. Byleth did not appreciate the girl’s commentary.

Outside of Sothis, the reaction to his statement was mixed. Most of the students appeared concerned or disappointed; while the other half looked annoyed. The news of their new professor blowing off the first lecture did not install confidence in the students of the Officer’s Academy. In the back row, Byleth could see Rhea’s expression had softened, likely having approved of Byleth’s honest answer. Next to her, Seteth could be seen angrily whispering something in Rhea’s ears. Byleth could not hear what Seteth was saying, but he had a good damn idea what the conversation was about. 

“Ugh! Seriously?!” Lysithea cried out, her face starting to flush in anger. Byleth was almost surprised to see someone so worked up about it. He figured, if anything, the students would all be excited to have a break from having to listen to lectures all day.

“Excuse me, but can we leave on the grounds of the new professor being incompetent? I’m better off studying on my own at this rate.” The cranky little girl said, turning around in her seat as she waited for an answer to her question. Seteth said nothing and simply turned to the archbishop, waiting for her response.

“Anyone who wishes to leave may do so for today,” Rhea said, much to Byleth’s surprise. He had hoped that they would’ve cancelled class for today, given how unprepared he was. What was he supposed to talk about? This would just be a waste of time for everyone.

Byleth silently watched as the students Lysithea, Felix, and Bernadetta got up from their desks and left the lecture hall. Another one of the Black Eagle students, Linhardt, tried to get up and leave; but Edelgard grabbed him by his uniform and sat him back down.

“Um... Professor, if you would like, you can look at my textbook and use that to find some notes to talk about.” A small voice chirped up from the section where the students from the Blue Lions House sat. It was Annette, holding out a heavy textbook towards her teacher. She smiled nervously, but held herself together with determination; as if she was trying to do her best to help the situation.

“How kind. I think I like her.” Sothis commented, the grin on her face still present.

Walking up to the girl, Byleth took the book and opened it right away. Immediately as he did so, he could see that it was full of nothing but the tiniest print ever possibly written. Squinting very hard and bringing the book right in front of his face, Byleth did his best to decipher the text. But it was a painfully slow process. As he began to realize how big the damn book was with its tiny print; Byleth fought the urge to vomit. What sadistic freak thought this was a good idea?

“Uh Professor, can you read?” Raphael nervously asked, watching their professor struggle to read the contents of the book.

“Of course, I can read!” Byleth barked, nearly ready to chuck the damn book at the young man. He could feel a dull pain starting to grow from his forehead. Quickly closing the book, Byleth gave up trying to read the book, at least for now. He quietly handed it back to the ginger haired girl and gave her a silent nod of thanks.

Watching the scene before her, Rhea suddenly leaned over to whisper something into Seteth’s ear, stood up and left the Lecture Hall, leaving behind a surprised Seteth. Byleth watched as the archbishop quietly left the room, and began to wonder if he did something wrong; aside from the whole failing to prepare for his first lecture, of course.

An awkward silence descended upon the occupants of the Lecture Hall. Students began to look around nervously at one another, unsure of what was going on and what was supposed to happen next. A few began to turn their eyes towards the exit door, weighing the decision of abandoning ship like the earlier select students did moments ago. But no one got up, as they seemed to lack the courage. Some turned to their friends for advice; Byleth could hear fragments of their conversation in their whispers. The young mercenary simply stood in his designated spot as he waited for a miracle.

“Say Professor, do you have any cool nicknames like your dad?” Ashe spoke up, breaking the silence. He raised his hands nervously, but spoke with clarity. The students’ eyes began to light up at the question and eagerly waited for their professor’s reply. Byleth, however, could only panic. This was not the miracle he wanted.

Of all the questions the boy could have asked him, why that one?

“Technically, yes. But…” Byleth murmured, fighting the urge to pull at his hair in frustration. Casting his eyes to the side, he bit his lip lightly as he contemplated how he would answer the question. Byleth could not tell if enduring the awkward silence was better or worse than where this conversation was going.

“Well, you must tell us now.” Edelgard said, softly chuckling to herself. Her tall, dark haired companion flashed a look of surprise at his lady’s interest in the Professor. Hubert sat quietly, looking rather perturbed.

“Yes! Go forth and begin the spilling of beans!” Petra exclaimed, shooting up from her seat with great zeal. Sitting beside Petra, Dorothea quickly grabbed the other girl by the hem of her shirt in efforts to get her to sit back down. The foreign princess complied with the silent request, but her expression was clouded in confusion.

“Oh my, such excitement! Well, you best not keep them waiting. Come now.” Sothis nudged as Byleth sighed heavily, silently trying to stall for time; but eventually conceded to the students and their eager faces.

“I was called ‘the Ashen Demon’ by some former coworkers from my father’s mercenary crew.” Byleth shifted nervously where he stood, his blank expression betraying his true feelings.

“Ooh,” the crowd murmured in awe. A few eyes lit up in excitement, while the rest mainly just appeared curious.

“Is it because you’re really pale?” Claude asked, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. Chuckles and snickering could be heard from the students, especially in the Golden Deer House.

“No,” Byleth flatly replied, initially considering not to even bother answering the boy.

“If that’s the case, we could call Linhardt ‘the Ashen Sleeper.’” Caspar said, gesturing to the green haired boy with his head down on the desk in front of him. Giggles could be heard throughout the Lecture Hall and all eyes shifted towards the seemingly dormant boy.

“Oh, harr dee harr harr.” Linhardt audibly mocked, briefly bringing up his head upward to speak, only to promptly drop it back on the desk once he was done talking. Most of the other Black Eagle students did not even attempt to try and keep the boy awake; having deemed him a lost cause. Only Edelgard sat in her seat glaring holes into the boy’s direction, seemingly ready to go up and force him to stay conscious and alert no matter the cost.

“It’s because…” Byleth murmured without thinking. The words just slipped right out of his mouth. They did not fall on death ears, however; Byleth could suddenly feel all eyes back on him. Shit. Why didn’t he keep his mouth shut?

“It’s because…when I defeat my enemies…I…reduce them to ash,” Byleth explained, shutting his eyes as he physically cringed at the answer he gave. That nickname…was not something he was proud of. It was from a time where he was most certainly not proud of himself or the things he did. Every time he heard it, it just brought back bad memories.

“That is right, you never did like that moniker, did you?” Sothis rhetorically inquired, gazing at Byleth at eye level. Her expression was calm and stoic, but in her voice Byleth could hear a bit of sympathy. A sudden outburst from the students brought both of their attentions back forward to the audience.

“That is...so cool! Oh, I want a cool nickname like that!” Caspar exclaimed, his face lighting up at the prospect. A few students also seemed impressed, but they did not hold a candle to Caspar’s enthusiasm. Byleth was a little shocked by the reaction, but then remembered that most of these students were still kids.

“Well I for one need no nickname. By my noble deeds, my name shall be known throughout all of Fodlan and history; Ferdinand von Aegir!” The ginger haired boy exclaimed, gently pushing back his hair as he sat upright and proud. Byleth rolled his eyes. Noble kids, seriously. Act like their shit is worth gold or something.

“Tell me Ferdinand; did your wet nurse drop you on your head when you were an infant?” Hubert sneered at Ferdinand. His face contorted into a fiendish grin as he watched the other man’s body visibly react to the insult. Ferdinand turned in his seat to properly face his roommate and was about to open his mouth to say something, when he was promptly interrupted.

“Enough, both of you.” Edelgard chided, flashing a stern look at the two young men. Ferdinand’s face contorted into an angry pout, while Hubert settled for a smirk.

“You with the hat,” Byleth said, pointing to a female Black Eagles student who had her hand raised.

“I have a name, Professor.” The young lady said, looking offended.

“Don’t we all,” Byleth wryly replied. He had no idea how the girl expected him to memorize all of their names within a couple of days. Not that he had any desire to do so anyway. It sounded like a nuisance.

“How rude. You truly cannot even bother to try to learn people’s names, can you?” Sothis sneered, glaring at the young man beside her. .

“Well, to remind you, my name is Dorothea,” she informed him, appearing agitated. “My question is this; how can you do it? How can you kill day in and day out; taking away human life? Not to mention, with a nickname like ‘The Ashen Demon’; well, you just don’t seem very empathetic. Frankly, I’m surprised the Church of Seiros would hire you.”

“You do know this is a military school, yes?” Byleth replied, mildly astonished. He vaguely remembered the girl mentioning about looking for a spouse, but Byleth assumed she was joking. Or rather, hoped she was joking.

“This is also a monastery of the largest church in Fodlan. My question still stands.” She retorted, her hand on her hip in a sassy pose.

“Forgive my intrusion,” Dimitri said, interjecting himself into the conversation. “But Dorothea, I don’t believe you fully understand the kind of people that men like our professor face on a daily basis. These are criminals.”

“Many people resort to crime in order to survive.” Dorothea explained, turning her attention to Dimitri. “I know I have stolen and lied in order to survive on the streets of Enbarr. Tell me Dimitri, do you believe I should be struck down and reduced to ash for my crimes?”

“Pickpocketing is not what these criminals usually do to survive.” Dimitri rebuked, his expression serious. “No, the people that our professor and other mercenaries like him face on a daily basis are unrepentant murderers and rapists, the true filth of society. It is because of the work of men like our professor that regular people, such as yourself, don’t have to deal with these monsters.”

“People of that extreme nature are rare and--” Dorothea said, her face starting to become pink with anger.

“That’s enough,” Seteth interjected, cutting off the girl. The advisor saw that their conversation was going nowhere and was only doomed to get more heated.

“To answer your question; you just do.” Byleth said, turning to Dorothea. “Taking a life is easy, surprisingly so. Lots of ways to do it, too. Living with that action is the hard part. But you make do. Sometimes you can solve a situation without bloodshed, but that is not always the case.”

Byleth paused for a moment as he realized he was starting to talk way more than he normally did. It was strange, but that was what lecturers are supposed to do, right? Byleth knew he probably could just stop with his answer right there, and he knew he would probably be happier with just giving the minimal effort for nearly all social circumstances. Perhaps it was because of the strange circumstances and new environment; but damn if Byleth wasn’t on a roll all of a sudden. Fueled by a great sense of courage, Byleth continued to speak.

“Truthfully, I don’t give a shit if someone is good or evil. It doesn’t matter. What matters are choices.” Byleth said, as his eyes shifted over the audience. He turned around and picked up a piece of chalk and began to fiddle with it in his hands. He could feel his stomach churn as he spoke, but he pushed through. Sothis floated out of his peripheral view, perhaps in an effort to not distract him from his fervor.

“When people pick up a weapon, whether to attack someone else or to defend yourself; that is a choice. Choices have consequences. Sometimes, even good people make bad choices, and they have to face those consequences. Each person fights for different reasons.” He continued, shifting in place as he stood. “Most common reasons I’ve seen are for money, protecting loved ones, or duty. But in the end; it doesn’t matter. On the battlefield, you don’t always get the luxury of knowing what your opponent is fighting for. You just have to decide if your reason to fight is worth taking another life.

“As for your opponent, all you can do is hope that their reason to fight is one worth killing and dying for.” Byleth concluded, rolling the piece of chalk around in his stray hand. Casting his eyes downward, his momentary fit of courage petered out. After speaking so much with so many listeners, Byleth’s stomach felt volatile and he felt a debilitating sense of vulnerability.

But why? Why did it unnerve him so much, especially when he knew deep down that most of the students wouldn’t care or give a shit to what he had to say. He sure wouldn’t if he were in their shoes. Seeking validation in his assumption, Byleth looked upwards at his audience and truly took a moment to look at the students before him.

A wave of realization crashed into him with a heavy blow; so hard, he forgot to breathe for a second.

They were all listening to him. Not just purely hearing the words that came out of his mouth, either, but truly listening. He could see it on all of their annoying faces. Even the slacker Linhardt had his damn head up. Sothis floated back into his view, clapping her hands, surprised at Byleth’s eloquence.

Byleth could see that not all members of the audience liked what he was saying based on their facial expressions. He could also sense that some students were more focused and alert than the others. But to suddenly have a whole room of individuals actively paying attention to every word that he spoke was surreal.

It was also downright terrifying.

====

The rest of the lecture mainly consisted of Byleth telling various stories of his experiences as a mercenary when prompted by the students, which filled the time up rather nicely. Most of them seemed entertained or intrigued by the stories, which was good enough for Byleth.

It was the ringing of the monastery’s bell that signaled Byleth’s torture session had finally come to an end. The students took no time to dally. Many of them straight up booked it to the nearest exit the moment they could. Byleth watched silently as the students began to clear out of the Lecture Hall. Some of the students were noticeably slower and seemed to take their sweet time to the exit door.

Finally, it was down to three students left in the Lecture Hall with him. Byleth was surprised to not see Seteth on the premises. He’d expect the man to at least stick around to give him a lecture or five. Byleth was expecting for one of the staff to dismiss him, or in ruder terms, kick him out through the door for his disrespect to the teaching profession. Did this mean he was stuck here until then or…?

Before he could determine his next course of action, Byleth was approached by two of the three students; Edelgard and Dimitri, if his memory served. He could see a flash of yellow in the background; a ways behind the pair in front of him. Byleth turned his attention to the prince and princess.

“Professor, I wanted to apologize for my words earlier. I didn’t mean to aggravate Dorothea and cause such a scene. It was an unnecessary distraction to your lecture, and I apologize for it.” Dimitri spoke, expression crestfallen in guilt.

“It's fine,” Byleth replied. He didn’t care about the distraction. If anything, it had given him something to talk about to take up his lecture time.

“I disagree. Being a distraction in class is completely unbecoming of the supposed crown prince of Faerghus. You should have allowed the professor to do their job to deal with Dorothea’s issue.” Edelgard said, shifting her gaze from Byleth to her classmate. The heir apparent of the Adrestian Empire crossed her arms, waiting to counter a response from her fellow house leader.

Dimitri said nothing, keeping his eyes downcast. His posture was stiff, rigid and formal; not faltering for a moment. He wasn’t goaded by Edelgard’s taunt, turning away from her. Byleth, from his perspective, could see Dimitri’s fist clench. It seemed he wanted to make some sort of retort, but held himself back.

“I see. How disappointing.” Edelgard said in response, mildly surprised by the boy’s silence. The exchange confused Byleth. Was this a normal thing between the two of them? He was aware they had an odd rapport between them from his observations on their first meeting. If they weren’t close, Edelgard’s scathing assertions were more than rude, even for an acquaintance. Byleth was about to comment before Edelgard interrupted him.

“However, he is not the only one who has been disappointing today.” Edelgard continued, turning her attention back to her Byleth. “Professor, I would like to congratulate you today about completing your first lecture. But to be frank, I do not believe it was anything worth congratulating.”

“Unfortunately, I have to agree,” Dimitri said, loosening up now that the focus wasn’t on how terribly he acted during lecture. “Professor, your lack of preparation for today was both unprofessional and rather disheartening.”

Ouch. Their words didn’t hurt as much as their combined disappointment, clearly written across their faces. They had really expected a lot out of him, didn’t they? Byleth could feel his stomach churn once more.

“On the other hand, it isn’t too surprising.” Edelgard mused, crossing her arms in thought. “Teaching is a skill in and of itself. Just because one is well versed in something doesn’t mean they are able to properly teach it. You clearly have zero experience in teaching, failure is only inevitable. Why in the world the archbishop would choose you to give our lectures is beyond me.”

While it was another tough blow, Byleth wholeheartedly agreed. Why the hell did the Archbishop think he would be able to teach without any sort of training wheels? If Sothis had access to his inner thoughts, she would have kicked him. Seteth had given Byleth the opportunity to prepare the night before, not only with books but a walkthrough with the advisor himself, which Byleth opted out in favour of more sleep. Seeing as she couldn’t read his mind, Sothis was instead observing the proceedings, looking around the lecture hall as Byleth was occupied. Letting out a sigh, Byleth mentally prepared himself for more criticisms.

“While he may not be a good fit for lectures,” Dimitri said, changing the topic of the conversation. His politeness and positive thinking was a small relief after Byleth’s failure of a lecture. “I imagine our Professor will be much more well versed with combat instruction.”

“That is a fair point,” Edelgard conceded, a small smirk curling upon her lips. “I must admit I am looking forward to your combat instruction sessions after seeing your work in the field. See you tomorrow, Professor. Please come prepared next time.”

“Yes, please do.” Dimitri agreed, trying to maintain his polite manner. “If giving lectures is proving difficult, I’m sure you could let the staff know and they can work something out. There is no shame in knowing your limits. Have a good day, Professor.”

Giving a formal bow, Dimitri turned around and followed Edelgard out the exit of the Lecture Hall. Once they were gone, Byleth plopped himself on the wooden chair next to the desk that was near the front of the room. It was uncomfortable, but he was so tired. Tilting his head back, Byleth took a free hand and pushed his hair back, placing the palm of his hand on his forehead, applying some light pressure. Believing he was finally alone and able to unwind, he let out a low groan. Compared to the thick of battle, teaching was a completely different beast, and leagues more mentally taxing.

Suddenly, slow, dramatic clapping roused Byleth, though he didn’t care to move. The gradual loudness of claps informed Byleth that the clapper was approaching. He barely suppressed an audible groan as he tried to assume a proper sitting position.

“Gotta hand it to you, Teach. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen someone mess up that badly. A real smooth crash and burn.” Claude’s voice rang out, so full of sarcasm that dripping wasn’t the proper term to describe it. Taking his hand off his forehead and straightening himself up in the chair, it was difficult to hide a grimace as the third house leader mimicked a dramatic explosion with his hands, all with an idiotic smile on his face.

“I didn’t have enough time to prepare,” Byleth angrily mumbled. It was a half-hearted protest, and even he knew it was bullshit. Claude had already caught him at inopportune times, being given a bullshit excuse wouldn’t change much between them.

“Well now, there is a lovely excuse! I should write that one down.” Claude smiled, sitting on top of one of the desks closest to the front of the Lecture Hall.

“But you had all weekend to prepare. I have no doubt that any one of the faculty would have helped if you even bothered to ask. The Officer’s Academy is one of the most prestigious schools in all of Fodlan and you had complete access to its resources to aid you. But you let it go to waste, and you wanna know why? It’s because you don’t care.” Claude said, without a hint of hesitation. The scathing review slapped Byleth across the face hard enough to force him to take a proper look at the boy.

His tone and posture were the exact same as usual, that carefree, mischievous manner of speech and laid back attitude. But his expression through Byleth off. Rather than the signature wink and smile, the student’s expression was stone cold and apathetic. Each point was hammered in with an efficiency Byleth wouldn’t have even expected from Seteth, even after the shit he put the advisor through.

“You know, it’d probably be best for everyone if you just quit.”

That was the last straw.

“Fuck off, Chuckles. I don’t have the time, energy or mood to give a shit at the moment.” Byleth spat, not trying to hide his chagrin in the slightest. Despite the factuality of Claude’s points, Byleth wouldn’t take it lying down. Even if it wasn’t professional to swear at a student, Byleth didn’t have many other methods to retort.

“ I’m being serious. You have made it pretty obvious that you don’t like being here and don’t want to be here. You’re only focused on yourself and don’t even bother trying to hide it.” Claude protested, taken aback a little by Byleth’s reaction.

“To be honest, I can’t blame you for that. I get it; all too well, unfortunately. But while you can afford to not give a shit, we students cannot.” Claude said, his words sounding sincere albeit rather somber. His expression saddened, an adult weariness flashing in his eyes as he continued to speak.

“Some of the students here are fortunate enough that they’ll probably never see combat outside of their days at the Officer’s Academy. But most will be going on to being knights or mercenaries and will work their lives off to pay their tuition debt. What those students learn here will determine if they live or die in combat on a daily basis. That time is valuable and precious. They can’t afford it to be wasted by one person’s ill preparation.” Taking a deep breath, Claude collected his thoughts as he prepared what to say next.

“You are a talented and experienced mercenary; there is no doubt about it.” He continued, speaking once again. “But it means nothing to us if you can’t teach us what you know. I don’t know what arrangement you have set up with Lady Rhea, but in my opinion; letting someone else take your position would be for the best.”

“You know what, Fuckles? I think I finally have the energy to give a shit. You seem to misunderstand my position. While I hate to admit it, you’re right. I’m not the right person for the job. If I could switch professions, I would in a heartbeat. Teaching kids just so that they can kill themselves on some unnamed battlefield doesn’t sit well with me.” Byleth scowled, sighing and proving the student right. There were other reasons why he admitted his failings to the house leader, but they weren’t so close that he would reveal them.

“Really? Well if you need work, I can set you up something back in Alliance territory. You did save my life after all. I’m sure my grandfather would love to thank you personally for saving his precious heir. So just think about it, okay?” Claude had thought he had a good grasp of the professor’s personality and desires, but this new side threw him off. Nonetheless, he continued forward with his plan. He didn’t want to get on Byleth’s bad side, conveniently forgetting his past transgression against the young mercenary. Fortunately for him, Claude’s offer did pique the mercenary’s interest.

“I will, now can you leave?” Byleth answered, growing tired once more. Claude had given him far too many things to think about. Realizing he wasn’t going to get any more conversation out of Byleth, Claude promptly got up from his seat on the desks as he dusted himself off.

“Now that that’s over, I do have some advice for you Teach.” Claude paused near the exit of the Lecture Hall and turned back to face Byleth.

“Your nicknames are lame. You should really think of something better than ‘Chuckles,’” Claude said, flashing a cocky grin. “If you need help, I think ‘Handsome’ or ‘Gorgeous’ are equally fitting nicknames you could give me. ‘Golden Stud’ also has its appeal and it’s just as fitting.”

“What you are is a ‘Golden Idiot.’ Now get lost.” Byleth retorted as he rolled his eyes, renewed energy beginning to wear thin. Claude chuckled and smiled in response, following with a swift wave goodbye as he left the Lecture Hall, leaving Byleth alone. Or, at least Byleth thought. Promptly after Claude’s departure, footsteps could be heard towards the exit of the Lecture Hall, and in the distance Byleth could recognize a familiar shade of green. Rhea.

“Are you coming to scold me too?” Byleth sarcastically remarked, partially glad he could be seen standing rather than deflated like he was when Claude caught him. Mentally preparing himself for an earful, Byleth was not looking forward to the conversation. But he was looking forward to her dismissing him, if only so the nightmare could finally end.

“I do believe your students have provided enough feedback.” Rhea calmly replied, her peaceful demeanor almost a protest against Byleth’s expected reaction from her. “For now, please read this aloud for me.”

Stepping towards him, Rhea handed Byleth a piece of parchment. Looking towards it, Byleth could see it was mostly blank with the exception of unusually tiny handwriting in the middle. Pulling it up directly in front of his face, Byleth squinted his eyes tight as he tried to make out the letters.

“Um…it’s…” Byleth stammered, struggling to complete the task as requested. Of course the archbishop would have him read something with the smallest print imaginable.

“You can stop there,” Rhea abruptly asked, pulling out something from her pocket and handed it to the new professor. “Please put these on and try it again.”

Staring into his hands, Byleth saw a pair of black glasses. It was light and rather thin, but heavier than what Byleth had expected glasses to feel like. The frames seemed well-worn, but other than that, they seemed somewhat agreeable to Byleth. Slowly and awkwardly, Byleth placed them on his face. Upon closer inspection, the lenses had some scratches on them, but nothing that could be noticed at a quick glance. Satisfied that they were affixed properly, Byleth tried to read the parchment once more.

“‘Congratulations on your first lecture, Professor Byleth.’” Byleth spoke, his voice wavering slightly in surprise. What used to be blurry chicken scratch on parchment that he had to strain himself to decipher was now clear, legible letters and words that he was familiar with. The handwriting was a little too fancy for Byleth’s taste, but it was legible.

Bewildered by the sudden clarity in his vision, Byleth looked off into the distance around him. He wondered if perhaps his farsight would be improved as well, but to his disappointment, it remained the same. Grabbing the glasses by his hand, Byleth quickly took them on and off to verify the difference between the two qualities of vision.

“I suspected as much,” Rhea mused, smiling softly as she watched Byleth fiddle with the glasses. “At least now you shall have no difficulties reading your class textbooks.”

“But I don’t like them,” Byleth stated, flashing a sour face as he turned his attention back to the frames. He couldn’t deny how helpful the glasses were for reading, but the thought of wearing these in public irked him, now that he had used them for a bit.

“Yet you look so good in them; so very mature and professional. It is quite fortunate.” Rhea praised, pressing her palms together.

“Hmph.” Byleth replied, not buying the archbishop’s assessment of him with his newfound accessory for one minute. Fortunately, he only had to wear the glasses to read, so he could get away with not wearing them in public most of the time. Letting out a heavy sigh, Byleth paused for a moment as he stared down at the glasses.

“How did you know?” He asked, a small thought in his mind reminding him that he should be suspicious of Rhea.

“I knew a woman who also tried to hide the fact she needed reading glasses. She made the same face you did.” The archbishop replied, her eyes gleaming with a soft smile.

“I wasn’t trying to hide it.” Byleth protested.

“I see. How long ago was it when your eyesight began to worsen?” Rhea asked.

“Two years. Jeralt always handled the paperwork. I never needed it.” Byleth answered truthfully, not seeing the harm.

“Until now,” Rhea smiled. Byleth cast his gaze aside and said nothing; throwing in the towel on the conversation entirely. A brief moment of silence passed between the two of them before the archbishop spoke again.

“Well Professor Byleth, you are going to need to be more proactive and diligent if you wish to stay here at the Officer’s Academy. I am giving you one exception for today, because I know this is a new experience for you, but failing to have material planned for your lecture is unacceptable.” Changing the topic entirely, Byleth watched as Rhea’s tone towards him began to shift to something more reprehensive. Byleth shifted nervously, dread rising as Rhea started talking about what he had expected from her earlier.

“You get one more chance.” Rhea continued. “If I do not see radical improvement by your next lecture on Friday; you will be removed from your position as lecturer and the role will be given to someone else. Your privileges at Garreg Mach will be cut as well, such as your meal ticket from the dining hall.”

“Oh no,” Byleth quietly gasped, eyes wide and mouth agape. That was his favorite thing about the place. It would be a terrible tragedy if he never got the chance to truly enjoy it.

“Oh, yes.” Rhea assured him, pausing for a moment. “Perhaps you can even use that as a motivation of sorts.”

Rhea remained as stoic and serene as ever, with her unsettling smile and calm demeanor. It reminded Byleth of a doll; pretty but fake. But unlike before, her eyes were different. They looked…brighter. Perhaps it was just an effect from wearing the glasses, but Byleth swore something was different. Like an underlying weakness in a blade that was close to breaking that you could feel as you held it.

“I guess,” Byleth muttered, feeling overwhelmed and defeated. “May I go now?”

“Of course. While the glasses are a gift you may keep; please do be careful with them. It takes quite a bit of time and money to replace them.” She said with an unfaltering gaze as Byleth nodded and walked past her towards the door.

“One last thing,” she continued, making Byleth stop in place.

“I noticed you struggled a bit with stage fright in the beginning of your lecture. I recommend speaking to Alois, as he may be able to help you with that.” Byleth bowed a small thanks and promptly left the lecture hall.

====

Byleth did not bother to remove his jacket and boots the moment he entered his room. Hitting the bed with a heavy flop, Byleth felt a small, hard object poke him in the chest.

“Shit,” Byleth harshly whispered, suddenly remembering the glasses. Scrambling upwards, Byleth jammed his hand down his pocket and fished out for the glasses. He only had them for ten minutes but if he broke them, the archbishop would surely have his head. Fortunately for him, they remained relatively unscathed.

Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, Byleth sat down at the edge of the bed. He found himself staring at the glasses once more. Placing them back on his face, Byleth began to look around his room, wondering if anything would look different. For the most part, everything looked the same. Byleth found himself disliking the heavy weight of the glasses on his face.

“You know, it’s better than being a blind teacher.” Sothis observed, descending from above Byleth. Now at eye level to the young man, she began to float around him, observing his look at all angles.

“They look ugly,” Byleth commented, his lips almost breaking into a pout. Sothis did not look happy.

“Quit your childish whining. Perhaps if you had brought up the problem sooner, you could have had your pick of more desirable styles. You must work with what is available. Isn’t there that saying, ‘beggars can’t be choosers?’” Sothis said, flashing with a smirk as Byleth rolled his eyes.

“At least you will have no problem reading the books, now. Although whether you will actually do so is another matter entirely.” Sothis mused to herself, her eyes glazing over to the haphazard stack of books by the end of Byleth’s bed. Byleth followed and he found himself instinctively reaching out for one of the books closest to him.

Picking up a heavy, thick book with a leather cover, Byleth read ‘_Basic Battle Tactics and Strategies_’ in large engraved letters on the cover. Opening the book, Byleth quickly shuffled through the pages. Despite the small print, Byleth could now read the words with ease. Unfortunately, the issue of the sheer amount of content the book held still remained.

“This is gonna be a lot of work,” Byleth groaned out loud, wondering how in the world he was going to read all of this. Not to mention, this was only the first book in a sea of books Seteth left him. Who had the time for all this reading? He surely didn’t.

“It is a job, Byleth. All jobs require a certain amount of work and effort to be put into them.” Sothis explained, floating around him absentmindedly. Byleth knew that. But prior to today, he had not fully understood that teaching really was a ‘job’ and needed a lot of work.

Byleth began to recall his lecture and the disaster it was. He remembered the disappointment in the faces of the students, especially Dimitri and Edelgard. Byleth recalled his conversation with Claude, and how he had failed to understand how his actions affected the students. Sighing heavily, Byleth was beginning to understand the pressure and responsibility the job required and it terrified him. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Byleth internally panicked as thoughts began to run rampant in his mind. Watching Byleth’s face contort in uncomfortable expressions, Sothis spoke up again.

“Byleth, while you are indeed a full-fledged fool; you at least have enough intelligence and diligence to handle the tasks asked of you. It is not impossible. You simply must garner the determination and willpower to see it through. If you do well, I shall praise you.” Sothis brightly smiled, practically beaming at the thought.

“Don’t care.” Byleth wryly replied. Sothis scowled, folding her arms and turned her back against the young man in protest as she floated in the air. Byleth could not imagine why she thought her silent treatment protests were ‘punishments’ for him. Any break Byleth could get from the girl’s incessant yapping was a blessing; probably from the goddess herself. Keeping his mouth firm shut, Byleth indulged the green haired girl in her fantasies.

With the open book in his lap, Byleth was hesitant to start reading it. Wait, with these glasses, he could read anything now. There was something he had to read first; something he had not read in over two years. Springing up from his spot with a great sense of urgency, Byleth lunged towards his bag of belongings. Despite his many days of stay, Byleth still had yet to unpack fully. Despite his father’s words that they would be staying longer than anticipated, Byleth still had hope that his father would change his mind. Byleth would then be ready to leave at a moment’s notice if he did.

“What are you doing now?” Sothis inquired, her curiosity getting the best of her as she prematurely broke her silent protest once again. Coming down to where Byleth knelt, Sothis hovered directly in Byleth’s line of sight, obstructing his view. Annoyed, he swatted her out of the way with a free hand.

“Move, you’re in my way. I’m just trying to find--there, got it.” Digging through the bottom of his bag, Byleth pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. Looking at the outside of the piece of parchment, Byleth knew that this was not the item he was searching for. Still eager to test out more of his improved reading vision, Byleth opened the piece of paper anyway and was greeted with a familiar image.

Even with his new glasses, it took a second for Byleth to decipher the childish writing scrawled around the image. In the center were three colorful stick figures, two big and one small. Written above each figure were names. The first one was ‘mOmy,’ the second one ‘DaDee,’ and the smallest one was ‘mee.’ The figures were ugly, crude and poorly drawn. Next to the three figures was a large box. Above the box, was written “DReem hOus.”

It was obviously a child’s drawing; the only one Byleth would actually keep on his person. It was made by Lyla as a gift for her father, Markus Singh, former mercenary and friend of Jeralt’s turned bandit. The paper was wilted. The edges and back of it stained a murky brown; blood long dried. Byleth could still remember the fresh crimson it glowed after he had taken it from the dying bandit. Back then, it had been the bandit’s ploy to throw Byleth off his game long enough for Markus to pierce his thigh with a hidden dagger.

Recalling the memory, Byleth traced the outline of the scar on his thigh through his pants. The bandit left Byleth an eye-opening parting ‘gift.’ It was Byleth’s first major injury as a mercenary, his first dose in a series of reality checks that came with the profession. He was so young back then. Eager, reckless, and most glaringly; stupid. He used to think that nothing could touch him. All would fall before him, the son of the legendary Blade Breaker. Oh, how those days of youth made him cringe. Getting stabbed and believing he was at death’s door was quite the humbling experience for Byleth, and one he would value in his field of work.

They never did find whoever paid Markus to sabotage the merchants. Jeralt never liked loose ends and spent a long time trying to find answers, but every trail went cold the moment the Blade Breaker tried to dig deeper. What more, was that the attacks on the merchants stopped dead in their tracks once Markus and his gang were taken out. It seemed like Markus was working alone, which Jeralt hadn’t bought and that Byleth concluded on his own when he was reflecting on the incident a while after. Frustratingly, there was nothing they could do about it.

The drawing had pulled his attention away from his other task. It had been quite a while since Byleth had last thought about that encounter, and the web of consequences that expanded out from it. So many had died that day, and many more suffered from the aftermath. When he was younger, he thought of why. The question plagued him even now. Why did Markus go to such extremes? Byleth had started tracing the stick figures of the picture absentmindedly as he contemplated, his expression growing to a small frown.

Was it for his family? This daughter who had given her all to make a keepsake for her father. He did have the picture on him the day he died. Byleth could not imagine that his family wanted him to work in such a violent field. Perhaps, they didn’t know. It was certainly a lucrative job when one did it well. Perhaps they didn’t know, and only found out a fraction of the truth the moment one of Jeralt’s mercenaries came to their door to tell them that Markus was dead as part of the Blade Breaker’s investigations.

Byleth turned his attention to the ‘child’ in the picture. She must have been young when her father died; old enough to write and draw, but not old enough to be able to do both of those things well. Byleth remembered that when he was a child, it was one of his biggest fears; his father leaving only to never come back.

“Oh, you still have that? I never did understand why you kept that picture.” Sothis murmured, slightly grossed out at the dried blood on the picture. Hesitant, Byleth was at a loss for words. He never really thought about why he kept it, all these years. He quietly wracked his brain for an answer.

“It felt…proper. I killed this girl’s father. His death by my hand was out of necessity, but to treat this with the same lack of care is…distasteful, to say the least. My father lives because hers had to die. I keep it to remind myself of those facts.” Byleth stated, folding the picture closed.

Truth be told, the answer changed each time Byleth reflected on the picture, but each time he looked, he hoped for some kind of answer to magically come to him. But the reality was that he would probably never fully understand why. He had his guesses, but he would never know for certain. He just hoped that, whatever the reason was, it was something worth the pain and suffering that inevitably followed.

Putting the folded picture to the side, Byleth inserted a free arm into the bag once more and began to fish around the bottom. Finding his quarry, he pulled out an old, worn out envelope with a broken wax seal stamp of the Leicester Alliance. Satisfied with what he was originally looking for, Byleth stood upwards and walked back towards his bed.

Envelope in hand, Byleth blankly stared at it. He had read the contents of the letter many times before, but despite it all, he found himself hesitant to read it again. It had been two years since he last did so. Doing so now would most definitely bring back memories, most of which he’d prefer to not recall.

Before Byleth could make a decision, a loud ‘thunk’ disrupted his thoughts. Another one of the books that Seteth had left for him fell off the bed and onto the floor. Leaning over to pick it up, the book brought Byleth’s thoughts back to his situation and the events that day; his disastrous first lecture, the disappointed faces, the scolding. ‘_Final Defense Tactics; To Fight Unto Death._’ The title led to Byleth recalling some of the words that Claude had told him earlier.

_“Most will be going on to being knights or mercenaries. What those students learn here will determine if they live or die in combat on a daily basis. That time is valuable and precious. They can’t afford it to be wasted by one person’s ill preparation.”_

The brat was right, and even if he admitted to it at the time, the thought still grated on his nerves. He had taken it all for granted and ultimately screwed himself into a corner with no way out. Was the situation salvageable? He knew throwing in the towel would be far less painful, and was definitely the more appealing option. But something within him… desired more. Or perhaps the loss of a free meal ticket weighed on his mind a little heavier than expected.

“Sothis,” Byleth said, breaking the period of silence between the two. He turned to the floating girl as he waited for her response.

“What is it now?” Sothis asked as she yawned, having settled into a comfortable float, not having much to do as Byleth rummaged through his belongings and stared into space.

“I am going to start taking this seriously. You’re going to help me.” Byleth asserted begrudgingly, gesturing towards the stack of books on his bed. He was going to need all the help he could get, and he doubted Seteth would offer any after Byleth slighted him last night. He might have asked Manuela and Hanneman, but to risk another chase would surely break the thin ice he had with the archbishop.

“Of course I’ll help you Byleth,” Sothis assured him, hiding her surprise with a subtle mid-air spin. She did not expect such a decision from Byleth, but if he was going to be productive, it’s not like she would stop him. His own tendencies made it easier to waste time on useless endeavors, and she was sick of doing nothing but floating about.

“But you are going to need to work extra hard to catch up to where those third-year students are currently. With this in mind, we should begin at once! Move those books to that desk over there. It is a much better working space than your place of rest! You can take notes easier as well.” Sothis motioned towards the desk across the room from Byleth’s bed. Nodding in agreement, Byleth went to work.

With renewed resolve, Byleth diligently moved all of the books into a neat stack on the desk. Sothis helped sort the compounding volumes into a semblance of order and directed them to Byleth as he did all the hard labor, shedding his coat onto the accompanying chair as he broke a sweat, ordering the books according to Sothis’ order. Eyes lit intently with interest, Byleth watched from the corner of his eye as Sothis thought of what to direct Byleth towards next.

Pulling out the chair, Byleth sat down and placed the letter to the side. Quickly skimming the titles of the books in front of him, Byleth picked out the topics that looked foreign to him or ones that he thought would be more difficult to learn. Suddenly, he could feel a pair of eyes on him.

“Is there something I missed?” Byleth grumbled, sparing a glance at the green haired girl. Sothis was now sitting on the top of the headboard of the desk, her legs crossed as she looked down on Byleth from above. She had a calm and assured smile etched on her face, one that Byleth found unsettling.

“I am proud of you, Byleth.” She said, her eyes practically glittering. “Even if your reason for undertaking the task is something as trivial as food privileges, it’s good to see you take initiative to help the little ones learn. I’m sure they will thank you for it, each in their own way.”

“Hmph,” Byleth grunted, acknowledging the praise but seemingly too focused on his info-gathering task to give voice to his thoughts. Sothis was wrong. While Byleth did not admit the truth, his reasoning for taking the job seriously and sticking around was not because of the food. Although it certainly helped matters, even he would be embarrassed if it was his only reason. Gazing down at the envelope he had propped on his desk, Byleth concluded that it was better that he kept that secret to himself.

Before Byleth began his studies, he decided it was time that he reread the old letter that he had kept all these years. Lifting back the flap of the broken wax seal, Byleth pulled out the letter from the envelope. Both the document and its container had seen better days, rips and tears dotting the edges, some of the calligraphy faded from sun, rain and the passage of time. Unfolding the parchment, Byleth began to read its contents once more. Bombarded with memories of nostalgia and melancholy; Byleth dropped the envelope to the table. Knowing full well the letter was addressed to him, his gaze instead leveled on the name of its writer.

_Jake Ernest_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last thing: I am going to be changing the name of the fic starting the release of the next chapter (not this one). The new name will be “Ghosts of the Body.” The “Ghosts of Fodlan” will instead be the name of the series, as I plan to have 4-5 entries, this one being the first. 
> 
> Credit to Dtale for beta-reading this chapter!


	8. He's Sweet But a Psycho

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost July. wtf.
> 
> Reminder that starting this chapter I changed the fic's title from "Ghosts of Fodlan" to "Ghosts of the Body." "Ghosts of Fodlan" will be the name of the series the fic will eventually feature in.
> 
> Content Warning: Some torture, violence, and possibly gore at the latter half of the chapter. I don't go into too much detail and it's relatively brief (imo) but just in case.

Verdant Wind

Great Tree Moon

Chapter 8: He’s Sweet But a Psycho

====

_ Year 1170 _

_ It was a beautiful morning. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, the wind was blowing through with a gentle breeze; a pristine picture of nature at its best. Roaming through the forest on such a beautiful day was a traveler. A middle aged man of average stature, a stranger to the area. He had just passed through a small village, and now through a thick forest on to his next destination. _

_ Alas, he was very lost. _

_ Despite doing his best to follow the directions of a man he had met in the previous village, the traveler still found himself very lost. The trail he had been following was long gone and he could only see dense undergrowth blocking every path. Marching through various foliage and shrubbery, he soon stumbled upon a clearing and a small, quaint house. Relief washed over him at the sight. _

_ “How the Goddess smiles upon me. Today must be my lucky day!” He said with a smile, as if cursing his own luck at the mere utterance. Unbeknownst to the traveler; he would prove to be very, very wrong. _

_ “Hello! Anyone there?” the traveler called out, knocking on the door. Pausing for a moment to listen out for a response, he was greeted with silence. Reasonably assuming that no one was home, he reached for the doorknob and tried to turn it, finding it locked. Instead of a typical sigh of disappointment, the traveler’s eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. Pulling out a pair of lock picks from his pocket, the traveler squatted down to eye lever to the lock on the door and began to tinker away. Within a few minutes, a subtle ‘click’ signaled a job well done. Opening the door slowly, the traveler slid inside. _

_ The interior of the house was much larger than the traveler had initially expected. The entrance led to the living room with the kitchen visibly adjacent. Everything looked neat and orderly, with only the bare minimum of furniture present. Walking towards a small table, he ran his finger along the surface displacing a thin layer of dust on. It did not seem entirely abandoned, but he was not sure how long the house’s occupants were last present. _

_ “Hello~, anyone here?” He called out once more, reaching for a small dagger in his left pocket. Gripping it cautiously, he held it outwards, the home greeting him with a deafening silence. Stepping away from the living area, he headed towards a hallway that led deeper into the homestead. _

_ In the hallway, there were three doors. One on the far left, one on the far right, and one straight across from him; with the latter being the one closest to him, he opened it. It was the bathroom. Peering inside, it was empty like the rest of the house had been. A wash basin and an empty, dry tub were the only things present. Nothing out of the ordinary, the traveler softly closed the door and headed to the next room. _

_ Opening the door on the far right, the traveler was suddenly greeted by what could only be described as a vomit of colors and a strange odor. Chaotic, wild, colorful scribbles were plastered all over the walls. Crude drawings could be made out, some obviously more decipherable than others. The floor was covered in junk. Clothes, pieces of food, used dishes, toys, were everywhere. Covering his mouth, the traveler tried his best not to throw up. He wasn’t sure if it was the spoiled food or the dirty clothes that caused the odor, but it was incredibly pungent either way. _

_ The rest of the room was rather ordinary. In the corner was a single, small bed fit for a child. A dresser was not far from it as well as a small table covered in more colored drawings. A closet rested on the far end of the room. The contrast between the cleanliness of the rest of the house and the abject disaster that was this room bewildered the traveler. He could not imagine what kind of parent would let their child live in such a mess. It seemed that even thieves had standards after all. _

_ Quietly navigating through the debris on the floor; the traveler reached for the closet door. Peering inside, he was disappointed to discover it was instead full of… more junk. Specifically, rocks. A large pile of rocks, along with a bunch of twigs, branches, and leaves scattered everywhere. A makeshift wooden sword and shield sat in the corner, along with a half-eaten apple right next to it. _

_ “Nothing of value here,” he grimaced. As he closed the closet door, he heard a large crash coming from the kitchen. Startling the traveler, the man felt as if his heart was ready to burst out of his chest. He had assumed the former occupants were away, but perhaps there really was someone here with him in this house. Reaffirming his grip on the dagger, he slowly made his way out of the child’s room and back into the hallway. _

_ “Hello?” He called out. Leaning against the wall, the traveler slowly peeked out from the corner and peered into the kitchen. Empty. There was nobody in the living room, either. Walking further out, he soon found the source of the commotion. _

_ On the kitchen floor, a variety of pots and pans were spread out, a wooden stick, and a small burlap sack was present. Widening the opening with his dagger, the traveler found that the sack was full of cooking knives. The wooden stick had hooks embedded along the bottom, but the stranger thing was that it was broken in half. Looking for a clue as to what happened; the traveler saw something in the corner of his eye. _

_ Above the stove, was the other broken half of the wood, it was part of a holding rack. He had seen something like this before in other houses; the homeowners would hang their cookware above their kitchen. It was his first time seeing a bag of knives along with pots, but he assumed it was meant to keep the little one out of them. _

_ “Guess it must’ve snapped due to the weight,” he concluded, gazing at all the heavy cookware across the floor. The rack seemed thick enough to support, but what did he know of such things. Sighing a breath of relief, the traveler turned and proceeded back to the hallway. One more door, and by process of elimination, any valuables had to lie beyond it. _

_ Opening the door, he was relieved to see that it was not in a wretched state like the kid’s room. Like the rest of the house, it was neat and orderly, almost like a picture. A queen’s size bed laid in the middle of the room, covered in plain, gray-blue sheets. Next to it was a small end-table. On the bed’s left side was a plain drawer, a door to what was likely a closet was adjacent to it. On the right was a bookshelf, accompanied by a singular desk, tucked away in the corner. At the foot of the bed was a wooden chest with a hefty lock on it. Across the chest, was a large, towering, wooden cabinet. _

_ Cautious, the traveler quietly approached the closet door with dagger in hand, as he checked if anyone was hiding there. But it was just clothes; he was truly by himself. Oh, how fortunate he was. Pocketing his dagger, the traveler rubbed his hands together and smiled, he made his way to the locked chest. If there was anything worth stealing in this house, it would be locked in the chest. Taking out a pair of lock picks, he went straight to work. _

_ In just a few minutes, he heard his favorite sound; the click of a lock springing open. Greatly anticipating the loot he was gonna find, the thief tossed the hefty lock to the side and lifted the cover of the chest, the metal seal clattering rather loudly for a quiet operation. _

_ But instead of gold, jewelry, or heirlooms he could’ve pawned off; the thief only saw a set of what looked like a knight’s armor. Upon close inspection, it appeared to be an old uniform of one of the Church of Seiros. Old, faded and well-used, he recognized the symbol of the order, but the style was outdated. Underneath the armor, were some weapons and a journal. No money or jewels in sight. He had nothing. _

_ “Damn,” he angrily muttered, biting his lip. He could possibly sell the uniform and weapons to collectors but that wasn’t likely going to give him too much. Surely, this house had to have something better. Determined to find something of value, the thief turned to the large cabinet, when he saw it. _

_ Hovering over the edge of the top of the cabinet was a shabby, messy haired child with blue hair. Glaring down at him with blue eyes, the child was holding tightly a large frying pan in his arms. How did he miss this kid coming in? _

_ “What the fu--“ The thief was about to curse before the boy leapt from the cabinet, screaming and crashing into the trespasser. The speed and force of the fall knocked the man to the ground as the boy landed on top of him. _

_ Trying to recover from the force of the fall, the thief only opened his eyes for a second just to see the kid take a strike at his head with the frying pan. The kid hit hard and hit him good, and suddenly his vision began to blur. He could feel himself fading, trying to fight back, only to incoherently mumble. Before everything went to black, he could hear the kid say one last thing. _

_ “Got you.” _

\--

_ Coming to, the first thing the thief felt was pain. A sharp, piercing pain which emerged from the top and the back of his head. Accompanying it was the loud ringing in his ear; and between the two of them, the thief could barely hear the words being spoken to him just a few feet away. _

_ “I got it, Sothy. We just gotta wait until Dad gets back. Look, he’s waking up.” The other person said, the thief struggled to make out the words. _

_ “Where am I?” the thief groaned, opening his eyes. His vision was blurry at first, but as he struggled to focus, the picture in front of him began to clear up. He could feel his heart rapidly drop into his chest as he was startled by the sight of a child’s blue, soulless eyes staring blankly into his. _

_ “My house,” Said the boy, his blank expression unwavering. The thief recognized the boy; he had seen the child previously, but the circumstances of the meeting he could not fully recall. _

_ “How did I…?” the man murmured under his breath. Looking around him, he could see that he was in fact in a cellar of some kind. There was barely any light to see much of his surroundings, but the familiar damp, pungent smell of a basement was something he could recognize anywhere. But how did he get down here? _

_ “You were stealing. I stopped you and took you downstairs. You’re awfully heavy, mister. But I tied you up real good!” The boy eagerly explained, sounding quite proud of the accomplishment. _

_ Hearing the mention of him being tied up, the thief suddenly tried to move. His feet were free, but his arms could not move. His body leaning against a stone pillar; his arms were interlinked together and bound by rope. Realizing that the boy spoke the truth and the thief could not figure out how to get himself out of the binds, the man began to panic. _

_ “Untie me. Let me go!” the thief begged, struggling against the rope that dug into his wrists. His arms were sore from the position and try as he could; he could not break free. _

_ “Nope.” The boy frankly replied, his blank expression unfazed by the grown man’s desperate pleads. _

_ “Why?!” the thief cried out. The man knew he wasn’t a beacon of virtue; but even he could not fathom what on earth he did to deserve all of this. _

_ “I’m waiting until my dad comes home. I gotta prove to him that I can take care of myself so he can let me come with him on his work trips. I took you down all by myself so that should be proof enough.” The boy said, a small smile cracking from his lips. Across from him, the thief physically recoiled at the mention of the boy’s father. He could just imagine the man’s reaction to finding out that a stranger tried to get into their house and rob them. _

_ “I-I think once your dad knows how sorry I am, he’ll let me go. Why don’t you just go ahead and let me go now; it saves us all some trouble.” The thief said watching the boy in anticipation for his reply. It was all bullshit, but he was holding out on hope that the boy was gullible enough to believe such a lie. _

_ “Nah, he’ll probably kill you or something. He’s a mercenary, you know. He kills bad guys for a living.” The boy stated, looking unfazed by the thought of his father killing the other man. _

_ “Wait, wait, a-am I a bad guy?” the thief stuttered nervously. Sure, he wasn’t a good guy, for sure. But he wasn’t evil or anything. The fact that the kid came to such a conclusion shocked him. _

_ “Well, yeah. Stealers are bad guys.” The boy said, looking at the other man as if he had three heads on his shoulders. _

_ “But that’s not something you should kill a guy over!” the thief protested. He’s been threatened to lose fingers before and certainly had his fair share of prison time; but killing him? That was a steep price that left the man shaking in his boots. _

_ “I dunno. That’s for my dad to decide.” The boy answered, shifting his gaze elsewhere, growing tired of the conversation. The thief turned to his freshly scrambled brain for answers on how to keep the conversation going, and preferably get himself on the kid’s good side. _

_ “What’s your name, kid?” The thief asked. He watched as the boy’s dull eyes flash a brief glint of interest. _

_ “Byleth,” the boy answered without reservation. Considering how cautious and calculating the boy had been previously, the thief was surprised to see the kid very forthcoming about personal information so readily. But given that the thief was tied up in the basement; perhaps the kid believed he had nothing to fear now. _

_ “Byleth, that’s a great name. Listen Byleth, do you know when your dad is coming back?” The thief asked, a fake smile plastered on his face. _

_ “About a week, I think.” the boy answered, looking down he stretched out his hands and began to count his fingers. When he finished counting, he nodded to himself that his initial assumption had been correct. The thief writhed in discomfort at the news. He had hoped for some time, but he did not want to be tied up here for a whole week. Surely no parent would leave their child completely alone for that long? _

_ “Byleth, is there anyone else who lives here with you? Where is your mom? Or maybe a neighbor that lives nearby?” The thief didn’t see anyone else on his tour of the house, nor did he see a neighboring house nearby, but surely there must be someone else nearby. All he needed was just one adult who didn’t know the full story to come in and see him tied up. Lying about the truth of what happened should be easy enough, he just needed somebody to lie to. _

_ “My mom is dead. But, there’s Sothy.” The boy curtly replied, looking unfazed by the mention of his deceased mother. _

_ “Oh, that’s great! Can I speak to Sophie? Where is she?” The thief said, eyes flashing with excitement as he looked all around the room. But as he turned back to face the child, the thief noticed that the boy was unusually paler and visibly uncomfortable. Eyes cast down, the boy refused to meet the man’s gaze. A few moments of awkward silence fell between the two, until the boy resumed speaking once more. _

_ “She’s here.” He murmured reluctantly, still visibly uncomfortable. Raising his eyes upwards, the young boy watched the man’s physical reaction carefully. _

_ “What? Where?” the thief replied, utterly bewildered at where the alleged woman was supposed to be. Frantically turning his head in multiple directions, he tried to find her; expecting that she was hiding somewhere in the shadows, but he found nothing. _

_ “Here, she’s right here with us. You just can’t see or hear her. Nobody can, except me.” The blue haired boy clarified, staring at the man. _

_ “Of course she is!” the man exclaimed, his disbelief descending into comical despair. “Oh Goddess, I’m going to die here aren’t I?” _

_ “Hope not. At least not down here. Dead bodies stink. Last time we had one in the house it took forever just to get the smell out.” The boy explained, seemingly excited to share his knowledge and memory of the past with the stranger. Alas, the stranger did not share the sentiment. _

_ “Why was there a dead body in your house?” He asked the boy, sufficiently horrified. Just what kind of place was this? _

_ But upon the thief’s inquiry to the boy, the boy’s composure radically changed once more. Taking a step back, the boy was visibly uncomfortable once more; his expression a mix of guilt and discomfort. Desperate not to answer the man, the boy ran up the cellar stairs and left the man. _

_ “Oh Goddess please help me,” the man groaned, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back. What kind of mess did he get himself into, this time? _

\--

_ Despite the thief’s fears, the boy had managed to keep the man alive over the next couple of days. The kid fed him, brought him a bucket to relieve himself in, and would dump water on him when the thief began to stink. But what the stranger had failed to foresee, was the child’s extensive use of torture. The thief would not have to worry about starving to death, but the concern that he would be annoyed to death by the end of the week grew larger by the day. _

_ Despite being silent as a mouse when the thief broke into the house, now that he was downstairs and tied up; the boy wouldn’t shut up. Hours and hours each day the boy would spend in the cellar just talking nonstop to the stranger. If he didn’t talk to the stranger, he talked to “Sophie.” To spare what little sanity he had left, the thief didn’t bother even engaging in the conversations with the boy. He learned it was best to simply reply to him with a “uh huh” every five minutes kept the chatterbox satisfied; the boy was practically talking to walls. What was worse, the conversations weren’t even interesting; just boring, nonsensical kid shit. But every once in a while the boy would say something that stood out to the thief, if not downright disturb him. _

_ “Hey mister, have you ever killed anyone before?” the boy inquired. Sitting across him on the cold, damp cellar floor was his young captor, absentmindedly fiddling with twigs and leaves. The boy would bring random junk down in the cellar to play with as he talked endlessly to the stranger. _

_ “Uh h--wait, what? No.” the thief replied, catching himself before he said the wrong thing. Flashing a look of nervousness, the man was not sure where the boy was going with this conversation, and did not look forward to it. _

_ “Well, my dad has! He kills people for a living, you know. He’s a merce--” _

_ “Yes, a mercenary, I know. You’ve told me…many, many times; twenty-five exactly, more times than my mother has said she loved me.” The thief interrupted the boy, sighing to himself heavily. What he would do just to get that boy to shut up. _

_ “Yup, but I’ve never killed anyone before.” The boy clarified eagerly. “My dad is teaching me how to fight with a sword, but it’s just on straw dummies, so it’s boring. I wonder what it’s like though. Do you think it’s hard? I guess it can’t be too hard if people do it for a job. Do you think there is a lot of blood when you kill someone? My friend says that when you stab someone, the blood gushes out like a waterfall. But Sothy says that isn’t true.” _

_ “I…I don’t know,” the thief quietly murmured. How much this kid was obsessed with killing really started to concern the man; especially since he himself was not in the position to defend himself if the kid tried to do anything. The boy claimed he has never killed anyone before, but the stranger also recalled the boy talking about a corpse so he wasn’t sure what was true. _

_ Almost as if on cue, the boy pulled out something from his pocket. The thief could feel his heart sank as he recognized the shape of the object; a dagger. Byleth promptly unsheathed the blade and began to inspect it closely. Watching carefully from a safe distance, the thief saw familiar engravings on the blade and was quick to identify it. _

_ “Hey! That’s my dagger. Give it back!” the man shouted. The irony of the situation was not lost on him; the boy having stolen from the thief who tried to steal from him. But damn if that wasn’t his favorite dagger! _

_ “No, you’re gonna cut the ropes and try to escape.” The boy retorted, pointing the blade towards the man, indicating to the ropes that bound him. _

_ “Kid, just let me go.” The stranger begged the boy. “I promise I’ll write your dad a note about how you did such a good job catching me. I’m sure he’ll be super impressed!” _

_ It was something he was willing to do, too. Although he didn’t think it would matter much, he’d do whatever just to get out of there; preferably before dear ol’ dad came back. Unfortunately for him, his captor was quite an obstinate child. _

_ “No, he won’t believe it. He needs to see for himself. Besides, I can’t just let you go. You’re a bad guy.” The boy argued, his judgement on the man not budging an inch. _

_ “I’m not a bad guy!” the man protested, following with a heavy sigh. “Listen kid, haven’t you ever done something bad before?” _

_ “Hm…I licked a toad…once.” The boy said with some hesitation, as if it was a serious secret to reveal. It was not. _

_ “Gross, but no, it’s not what I meant.” The stranger continued, his face recoiling at the child’s response. “Haven’t you ever done anything ‘bad’ before? Like lie to your dad? Steal some food? Fight your friends?” _

_ The stranger waited patiently as the boy pondered over how to answer the question. The kid sure was quick to label others as “good” or “bad,” but the man believed that if he could get him to question his frame of mind even just a little; there was a chance he could convince to let him go. _

_ “Well, I don’t lie cause Dad says lying is bad and I don’t need to steal food cause someone brings me food every week.” The boy said, turning his gaze towards the thief; dagger in his hands. _

_ “But I fought my friends before.” The boy continued, his small hands fidgeting with the sharp blade as he spoke. “I used to throw rocks and sticks at them. Dad told me I had to stop that.” _

_ “So, you have done something bad too. Tell me; does that make you a bad person?” The thief inquired, hoping that he could get through the boy’s thick skull. _

_ “Not really. They had it coming and deserved it. They were mean to me and I fought back. But it’s okay cause I apologized and now we’re friends.” The boy quickly stood up and began to pace around the cellar; making jab motions with the dagger as if he fought an invisible opponent. _

_ “Well, good for you little guy! So does that mean if I apologize right now, that I can be ‘good’ too then? And then you can let me go?” The thief said, believing he was finally able to get the conversation where he needed to go. He was so close, he just had to be. _

_ “Nope, you’re still a bad guy.” Byleth answered, content in his ‘sound logic.’ _

_ The thief cried out in frustration and flailed about in his binds. Days he had been stuck down here; and he hadn’t been able to get anywhere with the kid. His body was sore from being tied up for so long and he was mentally exhausted from having to listen to the kid so damn much. His patience gone; something in the man finally ‘snapped’ as he felt his chest swell with anger. _

_ “Listen kid, do you want to know the truth? If I’m a bad guy, well then your dad is a bad guy too.” The thief sneered, eager to provoke the boy. _

_ “What? No he’s not.” The kid said, perturbed by the man’s statement. Feeling the sudden shift in atmosphere, Byleth stopped fooling around with the dagger and held his attention towards the stranger. _

_ “Oh yes, he definitely is. The Goddess says killing is a sin; and she especially hates murderers.” The thief proclaimed, flashing a smug grin. While it wasn’t necessarily true that the Goddess hated murderers in particular; there was no harm in embellishing the truth to the man’s favor. _

_ “I don’t care what some lady thinks. My dad is not a murderer!” The boy said, his nonchalant expression starting to crack. Stepping closer to the man, the boy’s body began to tense up. The stranger was by no means a devoted man of faith, but to see the boy call the Goddess “some lady” was almost downright offensive. _

_ “You’ve been telling me for days about how he kills people for a living! That makes him a murderer.” The thief argued, his frustration with the boy starting to increase. _

_ “He kills BAD people!” The boy corrected him. Gripping the dagger tightly, Byleth began to clench his teeth tightly as his anger began to rise. Seeing this, the thief decided to take their exchange further. _

_ “It doesn’t matter.” He argued. “You know what else? When murderers die, the Goddess sends them to the Eternal Flames where they suffer for all eternity for their sins. That’s where your dad is gonna go when he dies!” _

_ “My dad is gonna send YOU to the Eternal Flames!” Young Byleth yelled as he chucked the dagger at the thief, stomping up the stairs to throw a temper tantrum. _

_ “Son of a--!!” The thief shrieked in pain as the dagger pierced his foot, not a life-threatening wound but one that was incredibly painful nonetheless. The thief spewed profanities like there was no tomorrow, deaf to the ears of the young boy who went outside to whack trees with sticks and complain to “Sophie.” _

_ “I SWEAR I WILL GUT YOU AND YOUR FATHER, EVEN IF IT KILLS ME!” The thief roared, a verbal assault the only outlet of his rage and pain. He would have struggled, but his wound may become fatal, if infection didn’t get him first. _

_ “Goddess, if you exist, just end my suffering.” He murmured after a lengthy rant viscerally describing beating the boy senseless. He could end his life himself by struggling, but what kind of idiot died from a dagger to the foot? At least divine retribution would be dignified. Physically and mentally drained, the thief passed out. _

\--

_ Yeah, yeah. I heard you the first time, Sothy. No, I’m doing it just like you told me too. See?” _

_ Coming to, the stranger heard the familiar voice of a young boy. Opening his eyes, the thief couldn’t see clearly due to how dimly lit the environment around him was. As his eyes began to adjust and as he began to rouse himself, the thief recognized a familiar face; Byleth. _

_ “You…what are you doing?” the thief murmured, rubbing his eyes as he stifled a yawn. _

_ “Dressing you, or at least I think that’s what Sothy said. Sothy says you could die from an in-fec-tion.” The boy replied, not fazed by the fact the man was waking up. Feeling the pressure by his foot, the thief looked down to see the boy sitting by the edge of his foot, wrapped tightly in bandages. Staring for a moment, he suddenly recalled the events that transpired hours ago. _

_ “You stabbed me, you little shit! With my own dagger!” the man cried out, his face puffed in anger. Riled up once more, he began to flail around in his restraints in attempt for freedom; but to no avail. _

_ “I didn’t mean it.” The boy protested, blankly staring at the man. “Besides, it’s your fault. You made me do it.” _

_ “How?! I’ve been over here tied up for days. I can barely move an inch!” The man exclaimed, shaking in anger. The child had some nerve to say it was HIS fault for getting stabbed! _

_ “You made me mad!” The boy replied, glaring at the man. “But I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it. There wasn’t a lot of blood. It was kinda lame…” _

_ Gazing down at his foot, the stranger could see that the boy had in fact patched it up and almost did a good job at it; well, as good as a kid Byleth’s age could do. Underneath the bandages, the thief could feel the piercing pain of the wound. Feeling his anger rise up once more, he turned to the direction of the kid. But as he was about to give the boy an earful; he saw that the boy was quickly walking up the cellar’s stairs; a box of emergency aid equipment in hand. _

_ “Hey! Where are you going?!” the man questioned urgently. The thief may not have been able to stand his captor, but he was injured. What if he needed treatment? An infection could be worse if the kid did something wrong under the bandages. _

_ “I’m gonna get some stuff. I’ll be back.” The boy replied, waving goodbye to his prisoner. The stranger frantically shouted after the boy, but the child ignored him and left. Slinging a stream of verbal curses, the man closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall as he waited for his captor’s return. _

_ Two hours passed by as the stranger waited for the young boy to return. He had managed to fall back asleep again, only to be awoken by a new, unfamiliar voice. _

_ “Byleth, I’m home!” a voice rang out in the distance; a man’s voice. Awake now, the stranger realized it had to be the boy’s father. At first he panicked, but then he remembered that with the boy gone he had a chance to get out of this unscathed. _

_ “HELP! HELP ME! PLEASE, SOMEONE HELP ME!” the thief cried out, shouting at the top of his lungs. The father’s voice was only distantly heard, and with the stranger being tied up in the cellar; there was no guarantee he would be able to hear him down there. But alas, fortune smiled upon him that day. _

_ “What in the…? Byleth, where are you?! Byleth?!” The man cried out, having heard someone’s voice crying out for help in the vicinity. It did not take long for the boy’s father to check the cellar. The man’s heavy footsteps could be heard clamoring about as he stormed down the wooden cellar stairs. _

_ “What the--Who are you?! Where is my son?! Answer me, now!” The man roared, confusion replaced by burning anger. This caught the thief off guard. Why was he worried about his son when it was clear the stranger was the one that needed help? Hoping to quell the man’s anger, the thief spoke up. _

_ “Please, just please help me! I was locked up against my wi--” He tried to explain, but was cut off by the other man. _

_ “Where is my son? Where is Byleth? How did you find us? Was it the Church?! Answer me!” The boy’s father demanded, grabbing the other man by the cuff of his shirt, lifting both the thief and the chair in an impressive and intimidating show of strength. With his free hand, he grabbed a dagger from his pocket and placed it up against the other man’s throat. He was going to get answers out of the stranger one way or another. _

_ “Woah, woah, woah; hold on there!” the thief sputtered, freaking out about the dagger. “No, no! The Church didn’t send me at all. Nobody did. Look man, I was just wandering through the forest and I stumbled upon your house. I thought it was abandoned, so I…” _

_ “You tried to steal from us?” The boy’s father asked, his angry expression not wavering. As the dagger remained sitting across his throat, the thief began to scramble his thoughts on how to de-escalate the situation. _

_ “Look man, I swear I thought it was abandoned! I had no idea. When I was inside, your son jumped me, knocked me out and tied me up. He’s kept me down here for nearly a week. I swear that’s the truth.” The thief confessed, flashing a sincere look towards the other man. It was of course not fully the honest truth, but surely it was close enough. _

_ The stranger watched as the boy’s father expression began to soften, at least towards him. Lowering his dagger and the thief’s chair; the man stepped backwards as his face shifted from anger back to confusion. For a moment, his attention left the man tied up as he became overwhelmed by his own thoughts. _

_ “But that doesn’t… He wouldn’t…” the boy’s father murmured to himself, pacing back and forth slowly. He would occasionally glance at the thief, but it would not last for long. As the thief opened his mouth to say something, he was interrupted by a familiar voice. _

_ “I’m back--oh, Dad! You’re home!” Byleth exclaimed. Holding a box of medical supplies, he tossed them aside as he ran down the stairs and hugged his father. A quiet ‘oomph’ slipped from the father as the boy collided directly into him. _

_ “Byleth, are you okay? What happened?” The man replied, inspecting the boy for any kind of wounds or bruises. To his mild surprise; aside from the usual cuts and scratches; the boy looked unharmed. _

_ “Huh? Yeah, I’m fine dad. But look! I caught a bad guy all by myself!” The boy replied, completely dismissing his father’s level of concern. With great pride, the boy faced and pointed towards his captured victim. _

_ “I’m not a bad guy!” the thief protested, kicking his feet around. _

_ “Yes, he is! He’s a liar and a thief!” The boy insisted, turning back towards his dad. “He came into our house and tried to steal from us! But I knocked him out and tied him up here before he could get away with it. I did it all by myself too. Can I come on to your work trips, now?!” _

_ Talking a mile a minute, Byleth quickly overwhelmed his father as he chaotically explained the situation to his father. Jumping around in place, Byleth was so excited he could barely contain himself; his blank facial expression contrasting his true feelings. The boy’s father tried his best to get his son to settle down. _

_ “Wait, wait, Byleth slow down. Now tell me--” _

_ “Please, just let me go!” the thief interjected, interrupting the other man. “I swear I won’t bother you guys again! I didn’t steal anything, honest.” _

_ “Shut up!” The boy’s father roared, snapping at the other man. The thief nearly jumped at the sudden outburst, and promptly kept his mouth shut. The boy’s father turned back to his son, bearing a calmer expression. _

_ “Byleth, tell me; why didn’t you go get help from the folks in the village like we talked about? That was the plan if things like this happened.” The boy’s father calmly reminded him. Worry still etched on his face, the father did his best to keep his composure. _

_ “But if I got help from someone in the village, I wouldn’t be able to prove to you that I could take care of it myself. Remember how you said I couldn’t join your work until I was big enough that I could take care of myself and handle bad guys? Well, this proves I can. I can come with you now; I can do it!” _

_ Hearing his son’s reply, the other man closed his eyes and let out a long, heavy sigh. Rubbing the temples on his forehead for a moment, he took a deep breath as he turned back to his son. _

_ “Byleth, you could’ve gotten hurt.” The boy’s father calmly replied, weary eyes staring at the blue haired child. _

_ “But, I didn’t; so it’s okay.” The boy calmly replied, starting to sense his father’s frustration. _

_ “No, it’s not okay, Byleth. You put yourself in danger and could have died.” The father argued, his calm demeanor starting to fall apart rapidly. _

_ “But I didn’t die and I wouldn’t; I’ve got Sothy with me! She always protects me.” The boy assured him. It was not the first time the father heard this reply. _

_ “Byleth, Soapy doesn’t exist. She isn’t real.” The father replied, raising his voice slightly. Talking to his son, the man could feel anger quickly rise within him. _

_ “Sothy is real! You just can’t see her.” The boy argued, starting to get agitated along with his father. _

_ “No, Byleth she is not. The fact you can’t see that is just proof to me that I made the mistake of believing you could take care of yourself.” The boy’s father said, glaring at his son. His harsh words visibly caught the boy off guard. _

_ “No, you are not going to be joining me on my work trips.” He continued. “You are miles from being ready for that. In fact, from now on whenever I’m gone; someone from the village is going to check on you every day. I can’t trust you anymore to take care of yourself. You don’t follow the rules and you broke your promise to me.” _

_ “No!” The boy shouted, his blank expression now riddled with a mix of anger and despair. _

_ “Yes. Now, go! Get out of my sight, while I clean up the mess you’ve made.” The father hissed, pointing at the man tied up; who had been silent during their argument. Furious, young Byleth stormed up the stairs; angrily stomping on each step as he did so. His father did not fail to see the spectacle. _

_ “Don’t you dare slam the--” He started to say, but it was too late. With a loud ‘bang,’ Byleth slammed the door to the cellar, leaving the boy’s father to just sigh heavily and whisper a variety of curses under his breath. Suddenly, another voice grabbed his attention. _

_ “Am I going to die?” the thief said, speaking up once more. He had been quiet during the father and son’s argument; but now the time would come for the father to deal with him. The stranger silently prayed to the Goddess that the other man would be in a merciful mood. He really didn’t want to die here. _

_ “No,” Jeralt said, turning towards the other man, placing a blindfold over his eyes. “I’m going to escort you out of this forest. But if I ever see you near my house or near my son ever again; you are going to wish I did kill you today. Do you understand?” _

_ “Y-yes,” he stammered, nodding eagerly. Silently, the boy’s father cut the binds on the man’s feet and the ones around the man’s torso; but he kept the ropes on the thief’s hands. Taking one of the longer, spare pieces of rope, he tied it to the knot on the man’s hands; to make something akin to a leash. Then he took a piece of cloth and proceeded to blindfold the other man. The thief could only surmise that the boy’s father did not seem to trust the other man. He did not want him to run off into places in the forest and he didn’t want the thief to know the way from the house to wherever they were going. All of this was fine with him, however; he’d do just about anything to get out of this shitty house and far away from that crazy kid. _

_ “Hey man, I gotta ask; what is wrong with your boy?” the thief asked in bewilderment. But instead of a verbal response, the stranger was given a sharp punch to the gut for a reply. “Point taken…” _

====

4/22, Year 1180

“Your time is up, von Aegir.”

Glaring from across the room, Hubert von Vestra sat on the foot of his bed, holding a freshly brewed cup of Dagdan coffee. While food and beverages were banned from student dormitory rooms due to pest concerns; each student was allowed one tea set and a handful of teabags at a time. Hubert was not a fan of tea; but a freshly brewed cup of coffee each morning was a valued asset in trying times.

And what trying times they were.

“I am rather busy at the moment, Hubert.” Ferdinand replied, glancing at his roommate from the edge of the mirror. At the other side of the room, the ginger haired student sat at the seat of a vanity table. A pair of tweezers in one hand, Ferdinand was completely absorbed in his task as his other hand zeroed in on a rogue hair, attacking it with noble gusto.

“I’m in a hurry.” Hubert clarified. Promptly finishing his cup of coffee, he placed the cup and tray aside and stood up from the edge of his bed. The scent of the freshly ground and brewed Dagdan coffee beans still floated in the air on his side of the room.

“What, off to go lick your mistress’ boots? Go on, I’m not stopping you.” Ferdinand taunted, watching his roommate’s reaction from the corner of the mirror. Beside him on the vanity table, was Ferdinand’s own tea set. Stepping closer to his roommate, Hubert could smell the foul, pungent aroma of Ferdinand’s morning tea; the accursed Seiros blend. Being that Ferdinand was a tea fanatic, Hubert had to tolerate a lot of the malignant brews his roommate concocted, but none was more hated than that damned Seiros tea.

“I need to use the mirror before I leave. Move.” Hubert replied. Between Ferdinand’s loathsome mouth and his nauseating beverage of choice; Hubert’s patience was rapidly thinning.

“No, I’m in the middle of trimming my eyebrows.” Ferdinand argued, not bothering to take his gaze away from what he was doing, both out of pride and not wanting to poke his eyes out. Hubert was not one to fail to understand the importance of the necessity of good grooming; noble etiquette demanded such. But never in his life had Hubert seen a man so obsessed over his appearance; much less take such an inordinate amount of time to tend to it.

“Does it truly take you that long to do such a simple task?” Hubert asked the other student, scowling intensely as the ginger plucked another hair, smoothing out his eyebrows before continuing on to the next hair.

“It’s a delicate procedure that requires the utmost focus and precision. My dignified looks don’t come easy, you know.” Ferdinand explained, smiling to himself. Hubert rolled his eyes. He could not deny that his roommate was quite fortunate in the department of physical charm. But whatever good looks he had were immediately ruined whenever he opened his damn mouth. Tragic, really.

“You pull at them for too long, von Aegir, and you’ll have no eyebrows left.” Hubert smirked. A sudden idea of shaving Ferdinand’s eyebrows as he slept flashed in Hubert’s mind. A dark chuckle escaped his lips as Hubert imagined Ferdinand’s reaction to the sight. Although it was pointless at the moment, he would have to remember that for the future.

“So, you are saying that I’d look like you?” Ferdinand replied, his turn now to smirk at the other man. Hubert’s ghost of a smile was obliterated, morphing back into a glaring scowl.

Quickly and efficiently, Hubert drew Ferdinand back off the vanity chair and watched in satisfaction as the other man hit the floor with a heavy thud. Wasting no time, Hubert took Ferdinand’s spot and quickly began examining himself in the mirror.

“Hey! We agreed to no fighting in the room!” Ferdinand exclaimed, his hair and shirt disheveled from the short fall.

“Oh, be quiet. That was nothing, I barely touched you.” Hubert hissed, angrily combing his hair and dusting of any stray bits of lint or dust on his uniform.

“You pushed me!” Ferdinand cried out, quickly picking himself off of the floor. Dusting off the dirt on his own clothes, Ferdinand lifted his head back up to glare at the dark haired man.

“Not hard enough, it seems.” Hubert murmured, not bothering to spare a glance at the other man. Rising from the chair, he walked towards the door. Stepping outside, Hubert could hear a few stray outbursts from behind him, but he feigned ignorance.

It was still dark out. The sun had yet to rise, but Hubert could see the reddening hues across the horizon heralding the dawn’s coming arrival. The student dormitories were still quiet at this time; the only activity being the sound of groans from rising sleepers or the bustling of early risers coming back from morning runs or training practices. A sudden wave of black and blue flash before his eyes; Felix, a student from the Blue Lions house, angrily storming off somewhere. Hubert could hear the angry mutterings of the younger boy, but he could not clearly decipher it.

Passing through the male student dormitory hallway, Hubert arrived at the female student dormitory hallway. In the distance, he could see familiar faces. The first was the Golden Deer girl, Leonie. She was walking towards her own room; not bothering to spare a glance at Hubert’s direction. 

In the past couple of weeks, Hubert had received a lot of apprehension and hostility of entering the girl’s side of the dormitories, especially so early in the morning. Leonie was one of the few girls to address him directly on the issue. To Hubert’s mild surprise, she seemed to have radically accepted his presence, but also made sure to go to great lengths to ignore him; which was perfectly fine with him. It mattered not whether she approved; only that she stayed out of his way.

Making his way further down the hallway, Hubert saw his housemates Petra and Dorothea. An alert Petra was standing out in the hallway; across from her in the middle of their doorway was a groggy Dorothea looking unusually disheveled.

“Dorothea if you are not above the task, you can slumber longer. After all, even when you go you--Oh! Great morning, Hubert.” Petra said, jumping slightly as Hubert suddenly appeared in her periphery. Performing a polite bow as greetings, he returned the favor with an acknowledging nod.

Hubert had not put much expectations in the Brigidan princess upon their first meeting; but he was pleasantly surprised to see the girl had quite the adaptability and tenacity to push through both the language barrier and the delicate nature of her circumstances in Fodlan. She could make an excellent ally in the days to come.

“Hey, Hubie. Off to wake up our dear sleeping princess again? You sure there is nothing going on between you two?” Dorothea praised, flashing a flirtatious wink in his direction.

Much like Petra, Dorothea also had respectable skill and attributes. A commoner getting into the Officer’s Academy was no small feat, and much less being a talented singer and a young lady of notable good looks. She was sharp minded, a little too sharp for Hubert’s taste. Her keen eye and interest in others’ personal affairs made Hubert’s job quite difficult. Fortunately for him, she was consumed with more frivolous matters.

“My business with Lady Edelgard does not concern you.” He replied, his serious expression steadfast. Dorothea’s face cascaded into a disappointed pout at the man’s cold-hearted response. She opened her mouth to say something in response, but was interrupted.

“Dorothea, we must hurry and make waste for the training grounds. Come!” Petra exclaimed. Walking forwards in the opposite direction; she motioned the other girl to follow.

“Haste, Petra. It’s ‘make haste.’ Ugh, and slow down! It’s too early for all this noise and running. See you later, Hubie.” Dorothea groaned and reluctantly followed her roommate. Hubert calmly watched the Black Eagle girls run off and continued his pursuit.

Standing in front of the door with the room number he grew to remember so well, Hubert hovered his hand to the door and firmly knocked upon it. It was quite fortunate for the both of them that Edelgard did not need to have a roommate; it would’ve made matters quite troublesome, especially if said roommate was anywhere close to being such a thorn in his side as Ferdinand.

“Lady Edelgard, it is time to wake up.” Hubert called out. After a short pause, he knocked against the door again.

Initially, it was just silence. But after a few moments, Hubert could hear movement. A low groan, as well as the shuffling of feet as someone made way closer. With a fatigued creak of the old doorknob, the door opened for Hubert to come face to face with an exhausted Edelgard with a terrible case of bed head. Blanket covering her like a cloak, Edelgard silently shuffled to the chair of her own vanity table, where she laid her head in vain hope of obtaining more sleep.

Stepping inside, Hubert wasted no time doing the morning routine for his mistress. First, he started preparing her morning tea. Using Edelgard’s own designated tea set, it only took a few minutes to heat up her favourite, Bergamot tea. As the tea steeped, he pulled out and set aside her uniform on the bed. When the tea was done, he brought it to her. The mistress tried to ignore his presence, but Hubert was quite adamant in his insistence. Groaning loudly, Edelgard lifted her head and took the cup.

“You know, you don’t have to do this for me every day. You are no longer my servant.” Edelgard said, a tired glare meeting his own piercing gaze in the mirror’s reflection. Evidently, she was not a morning person, and it would take a few cups of tea for her to compose herself.

“I may not, but I will always be faithfully loyal to you, Lady Edelgard. I will do whatever is necessary to see your goals come to fruition; even if it means I must drag you out of bed and make you tea each morning.” Hubert replied, a small smirk upon his face. Reaching for the brush on the vanity table, Hubert began to work at the tangles and knots in the girl’s hair.

For years, Hubert had known the girl to be a magnet for tangles and knots. As a child, Edelgard would adamantly fight anyone who dared try brushing her hair, allowing only her mother or Hubert to tend to it. It was an honor for young Hubert, but also a great challenge. He would spend hours each day trying to make order of the chaos that was her silver locks. The two would often joke with one another that rats crawled into her hair and made a nest at night.

Hubert did not dare make that joke anymore. Those peaceful days had long passed.

“Hubert, I am perfectly capable of waking myself up, among other tasks.” Edelgard replied wearily as she finished her cup of tea. Without speaking, Hubert took the cup out of her hand and poured more tea; returning it to her. Although grateful for the gesture, there was a look of frustration etched upon her face; he was not listening to her.

“Lady Edelgard, the issue is not a matter of capability, but more of priority. You have far too many duties and responsibilities as it is; please allow me to ease your burdens, no matter how trifling” Hubert replied earnestly. Pausing for a moment, he brushed off stray silver white hairs from his uniform. Edelgard’s hair was always beautiful no matter the color; but the retainer could not help but miss it’s former color.

“Not to mention, these morning visits allow us to speak in private and talk about important matters.” He continued, his eyes meeting Edelgard’s in the mirror’s reflection once more. The Garreg Mach Monastery was quite large in size, but it was full of so many nosy individuals that the two of them rarely had a moment to speak together; at least, completely alone. They could not afford a stray ear or two to catch wind of their conversations. Sneaking out to meet with their associates was a hassle in itself.

“Speaking of such matters, I heard you caught yourself a little bird recently.” Edelgard said, staring intently at the other man. Hubert’s eyes widened in surprise; he could not imagine how she could have found out about that information. There was no way, unless...

“That dog of yours wags its tail far too often, I see.” Hubert replied, scowling as he observed Edelgard flashing a smug grin. Hubert knew the ‘dog’ certainly had its uses, but it was a damn nuisance at times.

“Yes, I did find a little bird the other day.” Hubert continued. “It was lost in the mountains, so I decided to bring it back home with me. You know how much I like to listen to their songs. Do you disapprove?”

“I would like to know what type of bird you are taking care of.” Edelgard answered, her tone serious. Hubert knew exactly where she wanted to take this conversation, much to his annoyance.

“Do not concern yourself with such trifles, Lady Edelgard. It is but a small, insignificant bird. Normally, I would not intervene, but it would be unfortunate if it came loose and into the wrong hands.” Hubert replied, giving the bare minimum of information. Hubert feared there was a chance it may distress her if she knew the whole truth. But unfortunately for him, his mistress was not one to be dismissed so easily.

“Hubert, just tell me--”

“I respectively decline, Lady Edelgard.” He said, interrupting her. “The path we walk is a hard one; let me take care of what must be done. I will deal with this and future obstacles; as I have done in the past.”

“Just be discreet.” Edelgard calmly replied, after a moment of silence. It did not sit well with her to handle matters in such a manner, especially when she did not know the full details. She knew that Hubert was reliable to a fault, but she still had the slightest twinge of concern for her former retainer.

“Of course,” Hubert replied. “If it is any consolation, the little bird will likely not be all by themselves soon enough. I may bring my pitiful excuse of a roommate there for a visit. Damn whoever thought to make that mandatory for the students.”

“I don’t know, it sounds rather fun. I must admit, I’m almost envious of you and the other students. Having your own space is nice, of course; but it does get rather lonely at times.” Edelgard confessed, casting her eyes downward.

“Lady Edelgard, do remember that no matter the time or reason; you can summon me for whatever you need; even if it is merely to be physically present by your side.” Hubert humbly replied, his voice warm and sincere.

“Thank you, Hubert. But I was thinking more in the terms of spending time with other girls my age. It has been a long time since I’ve done that.” Edelgard said calmly, looking rather uncomfortable. Edelgard was eternally grateful for Hubert and his service, but there were times where his intensity made things quite awkward. 

“It is only natural.” Hubert concurred. “But I must remind you Lady Edelgard; we are here for a specific task. It is best if you do not get distracted and forget that.”

“I am firmly aware of why we are here, Hubert. But even you must know that any allies we obtain here will only further our cause. This is the time to seek them out.” Edelgard replied, slightly annoyed with her companion’s tone.

“I agree, but do remember that the Church’s influence is strong and there may come a time where you have to discard those that you grow close with if they do not make the correct choice.” Hubert replied, the conversation taking a somber turne.

“If I may make a suggestion, I would recommend focusing your attention on those with loyalties to the Empire. They will be the most useful; particularly those of the nobility.” Hubert said, thinking about who would be most useful and likely to join their cause. Fortunately for them, most of their class consisted of nobles. The only one that wasn’t still had a considerable amount of influence. That was not even considering the first or second year students.

“On that note, I must remind you not to do anything to Ferdinand.” Edelgard insisted. “I realize he may be difficult, but he is still the Prime Minister’s son. At the very least, we cannot afford to gather any further attention at this time. Besides, he may even prove useful down the line.”

“I sincerely doubt it, but I will heed your words. For now, the oaf lives.” Hubert answered, longing for the day he could take care of the nuisance for good.

====

“This is your fault. I blame you.”

It was the middle of the afternoon. As the sun blared down, Byleth leaned against a column in the far corner of the training grounds. He watched as the knights finished up their training and began cleaning up and packing away equipment. He kept an eye on the entrance to the training grounds, but the only movement was people on the way out; nobody coming in.

“Byleth, it is good that you are finally early. It is far better than being late.” Sothis explained, mirroring his stance and hovering beside him. Byleth was not entirely used to her presence yet. She was loud and stuck out like a sore thumb; distracting Byleth often. It still felt surreal that nobody else could see her.

“I’ve been standing here for fifteen minutes. I could’ve been napping.” Byleth said, his eyes flickering to the door every so often. Byleth had lunch not too long ago and a food coma was tightening its grip on his alertness. The thought of his bed almost destroyed any semblance of responsibility he had to his current task.

“Go weep about it,” Sothis replied sarcastically. Byleth rolled his eyes at the young girl’s newfound attitude. With the pause in the conversation, Byleth noticed a difference in his surroundings that made him bristle.

“People are staring.” Byleth stated aloud. He could feel a knot of anxiety forming within him.

“Well, considering that you are standing in a corner talking to yourself; I can certainly fathom why.” Sothis said, not nearly as concerned as Byleth. The knights couldn’t see her anyway

“I don’t think I’m supposed to be here.” Byleth murmured nervously. His eyes flickered to the entrance of the training grounds once more as he contemplated an escape plan.

“What? Of course you are. See? There’s Seteth. Why if you only just could stand to have more patience you could--hey!” Sothis started as Byleth bolted off, not bothering to stick around. Heading towards the entrance, he quickly made his way towards the green haired man. The mercenary rushing headfirst at Seteth drew a flinch from the advisor, who recomposed himself before addressing Byleth.

“Oh, it’s you. I’m surprised to see you here early. I half-expected you not to bother showing up at all, considering yesterday.” Seteth said, shooting a glare at the younger man. Byleth spitefully returned the gesture.

“Byleth, show some restraint. The man has good reason to be angry with you. You’ve only proved all of his worst assumptions about you right for the past couple of days.” Sothis sarcastically replied, casually floating behind Seteth. The other man remained oblivious as always and continued the conversation. Sothis was correct again, but Byleth would have sworn otherwise, much less stopped his behaviour.

“But since you are here, we can go ahead and get started. Follow me, please.” Seteth said as he began to move deeper into the training grounds. In the blink of an eye, Seteth’s glare disappeared under the guise of thinly veiled professionalism. At somewhat of a loss, Byleth could only follow along with the advisor.

The orientation did not take long. Seteth gave a brief tour of the other parts of the training grounds; areas that Byleth did not see during his examination with Jeritza, such as the armory and the equipment shed. The archbishop’s personal aide went over rules of the training grounds and various handling equipment handling procedures. All very boring and tedious for Byleth, but he forced himself to listen to all of it as Sothis silently floated around the enclosed space; making her own observations of the area.

“That should cover all that you need to know for the moment. The students should be in the changerooms and will be out shortly. I’ll leave you to set up. Give these back to Jeritza when you are done.” Seteth calmly instructed, handing Byleth a pair of keys. With a curt bow, Seteth turned around and began to make his exit.

“Wait.” Byleth called out, a sense of urgency carried in his voice. He had not expected the other man to be leaving so soon.

“Yes, Professor Byleth? What is it?” Seteth replied, turning around to face the younger man. A twinge of annoyance could be heard in his voice, but he did his best to keep his composure.

But as Seteth waited for Byleth’s response; he only received silence. A painful, awkward silence sat between the two men as Byleth was practically frozen.

“Byleth, what is wrong? Are you ill? Say something.” Sothis questioned him, floating closer as if to examine what was wrong with the professor. Byleth’s eyes flickered briefly at Sothis, but returned back to Seteth.

“I…um…” Byleth murmured, completely dumbfounded. He knew what he wanted to say, but could not find the words; at least none that weren’t embarrassing to admit. In the corner of his vision, Byleth saw the familiar faces of the Black Eagle students greeting both instructors as they passed by. A deep, sinking feeling began to curdle in his stomach and suddenly the exit to the training grounds was looking very, very appealing.

“Professor Byleth, are you…?” Seteth asked, pausing to rethink his phrasing. He was used to seeing the same reaction in students and had counseled them before. The young professor’s current reaction certainly would explain some of his past blunders, eliciting a small sense of pity from the advisor.

“If what you are asking for is some guidance, professor, I am more than willing to give it to you; provided that you actually listen.” Seteth sighed, his arms crossed across his chest. His patience was long worn thin after Byleth had bulldozed through it, but he was still willing to give the professor a chance, if only for his students.

“Byleth, do not blow this. The man is giving you a chance to do your job properly.” Sothis hissed, arms on her hips as she stared the young man down.

Knowing full well to keep his mouth shut in these types of situations, Byleth nodded his head in response to Seteth’s inquiry. What he needed was guidance. Fighting was easy. He knew how to do that. But teaching? None of the books from last night told him anything about that.

“Very well. My recommendation is to simply observe the students. Start the class with warm ups, move to weapons drills, and then at the latter half allow the students some freetime and see what they gravitate to. Observe them, note their strengths and weaknesses; and make future training plans based around that.” Seteth replied, arms held behind his back.

“Alright,” Byleth affirmed, nodding his head in agreement.

“Alas, I have other duties to attend to but I will be checking in on you every so often.” Seteth informed him, turning back around. He was only a few steps into the other direction before he was halted again.

“Wait,” Byleth called out, his colour returning to a normal shade.

“Yes, Professor Byleth?” Seteth wearily sighed, impatient to attend his other business.

“Thank you,” Byleth murmured, uncomfortable but grateful to the advisor.

“I’m sorry, what was that, Professor?” Seteth questioned, leaning forward as if the distance was interfering.

“Thank you,” Byleth answered, louder and more firm than his previous attempt.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t catch that. You’ll have to speak up, I’m afraid.” Seteth replied, his tight-lipped expression slipping into a small smile. Quickly catching on to the man’s game, Byleth remembered he didn’t like this man, and this man definitely did not like him.

“_ Thank you! _” Byleth shouted, his voice nearly erupting into a growl. Turning to his side, he could see their conversation was attracting unwanted attention. Irritated, Byleth quickly turned around and stormed off towards the armory and equipment sheds, leaving the older man behind. He could hear Sothis laughing and snickering behind him.

“_ Oh _, I hear you now. Well, you are most certainly welcome for the help, Professor Byleth.” Seteth replied, projecting his voice loudly for all the passersby to hear. While he could not help but feel a sense of satisfaction as he left the training grounds, Seteth could not help but worry as he left the new professor unsupervised. Silently, he prayed to the Goddess for divine protection over the students, as well as the Officer’s Academy from another scandal. 

====

Byleth did not waste time rummaging through the armory. The monastery was well stocked and diligently organized. They had a variety of types of weapons, some even he had never seen before, and was not sure what to pick. A man who loathed decision making; he decided to just pick random ones and settle on that.

“Wait, how many students are there?” Byleth whispered aloud. He tried to do a mental headcount, but he struggled to remember some of their faces. There was Red, Hat Girl, Snoozer, Exchange Student, Ferdinand von Aegir, and…

“Eight, Byleth. You have eight students.” Sothis informed him, unsurprised and mildly annoyed. Byleth nodded his head, trusting her answer. It wasn’t like he knew better. With all the weapons he was planning to bring out and all the students he had; he was definitely going to need to take multiple trips. Carrying a handful of sheathed swords, Byleth stepped outside the armory only to come into view of some familiar faces.

“Good morning, Professor!” a handful of voices shouted out in unison. Standing before him, were Ferdinand, Petra, and Caspar all in their…regular uniforms?

“I thought you were supposed to change?” Byleth asked, peering down at their clothes.

“They give us multiples of the same uniform. We just change so we don’t have to stink for the rest of the day.” Caspar answered, tugging on the front of his shirt. Despite what it seemed, this uniform looked loose to allow the students to fight more efficiently.

“It is a good thing too,” Ferdinand replied, nose turned up in disgust. “Caspar has terrible body odor after training sessions. He smells most foul.”

“Good to know,” Sothis sarcastically sighed, unimpressed and hoping to have heard anything but a young boy’s odours.

“Why does Caspar smell like a bird? I do not have the understanding.” Petra asked, turning to her peers for answers. The class stared at Ferdinand to do so, the noble student coughing into his fist. 

“No, not that kind of ‘fowl,’ Petra; I simply mean to say that Caspar smells bad after training.” Ferdinand clarified. There seemed to be a concept that whoever confused the exchange student would have the responsibility of correcting her.

“Oh, yes! I have agreement!” Petra exclaimed, a little too enthusiastic at the minor revelation.

“Hey, all that means is that I did some good training! Can’t get real strong unless you work real hard!” Caspar exclaimed, bumping his fists together.

“I gotta set up, please move.” Byleth said, making a gesture to indicate to move out of the way so that he wouldn’t poke them with the swords in hand. The students stepped aside to let Byleth walk through.

“Oh, Professor! Can we help you set up?!” Caspar inquired. Facing the students, Byleth could see half of their faces were lit with an eagerness he couldn’t fathom. Hubert and Linhardt seemed to share his sentiments in the back, the duo either standing by their charge or dozing off as usual. Dorothea seemed to be lingering around the changeroom door, attempting to coax a purple-haired ball through the changeroom door.

“Yeah, sure. Go bring out eight training dummies.” Byleth casually replied, mildly surprised when the trio bolted off towards the equipment shed at the sound of the request. Hubert calmly followed along behind them, either to help the three or to play some malicious prank on Ferdinand, not that Byleth was aware of their vitriol.

Dropping his current handful of weapons on an empty table; he began walking back to the armory for his next trip, dodging a horizontal dummy from blindsiding him. Recovering from his narrow escape to the infirmary, he saw Caspar under the offending dummy, carrying it over his head. The student didn’t even notice his near miss, continuing to run with the dummy blocking his vision. Inevitably, he tripped, throwing the dummy onto a slope and causing it to roll away. As he watched the boy desperately chase after it, Byleth could not help but wonder if he made a mistake assigning them that task.

Picking up the next set of weapons, Byleth continued with his task. He considered tasking one of the students to assist him, but after the rolling dummy incident, he decided against it. A blur of white flashed before him, bringing him to a sudden stop as a familiar face stood before him.

“Good morning, Professor.” Edelgard greeted, looking up at him. Byleth gave her a curt nod of a greeting, and picked up a lance before the house leader stopped him again.

“I was hoping I could speak to you before class started. Preferably discreetly between us, as it is a topic of delicate nature.” Edelgard continued, a worried look etched on her face. Byleth looked around and didn’t see any students near them, deeming the location to be discreet enough.

“What? Are you on your period or something?” Byleth bluntly questioned. Women were one big enigma for Byleth, but even he knew about that. Or at least, that it happened and was about as painful as being gutted with a rusty knife.

“Byleth, you fool! Have some class!” Sothis groaned, clasping her head in her hands.

“I--what?! No! Professor, it’s about Hubert.” Edelgard harshly whispered, her face flushed from embarrassment.

“Is _ he _ on his period?” Byleth asked, confused as to what could be a more delicate and secretive topic than being stabbed by your own organs. 

“No,” Edelgard answered, glaring at her teacher despite the obvious blush that reddened her face. “Professor, that is not something you should ever ask; especially to your student. It is inappropriate.”

Byleth didn’t quite understand, but he knew he was in uncharted territory and took the girl’s words to heart. Fortunately, Edelgard didn’t seem to be too upset and was eager to move on. Suddenly, Byleth was reminded that not only was she his student; but she was a princess. He had to be careful not to be too casual and watch what he said around her. He was suddenly very relieved Seteth was not here. He would’ve had Byleth’s head on a pike, another pike at Hubert’s request if Rhea allowed.

“What I wish to discuss is an incident with Hubert that happened before you arrived at the Officer’s Academy.” Edelgard explained, brushing her hair aside with a hand as the blush disappeared, regaining her composure.

“You see, professor; Hubert is…deathly afraid of heights.” Edelgard whispered, looking around ominously, afraid the dark retainer would pop out from the nearest shadow.

“That’s it?” Sothis asked aloud, stupefied. Byleth could not help but find the house leader’s response rather anticlimactic.

“Our previous professor made the mistake of forcing Hubert to ride one of the flying mounts in the first week. It took ten knights to get him down. It was incredibly embarrassing for all involved.” Edelgard wearily replied. Sighing heavily, she took a moment to compose herself.

“I do not know what you have planned for our physical training, but I beg of you Professor; do not make Hubert go through that again, despite what he says.” The girl pleaded, with a pained look.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Byleth casually replied, unfazed. It wasn’t a big request, he wasn’t sure why she was so serious about it.

“I--oh. Truly?” Edelgard said, taken aback at the easy response. Perhaps the past instructor was more of a stuck-up prick than Byleth thought.

“Yeah, I don’t care. I get it. Those things are flying deathtraps.” Byleth dryly answered. It was true too. Byleth understood the appeal and necessity of horses. But flying horses and flying lizards that can eat people whole, armor and all? No thank you.

“I see, well…thank you nonetheless. If you could, please don’t bring this up with Hubert either.” Edelgard asked, taking another peek around for said retainer. Byleth gave her a quick nod in agreement.

“Now, could you take this outside?” Byleth asked as he handed her an axe.

“Gladly, Professor.” Edelgard smiled as she took the axe, holding it to her chest for a moment before taking it with her outside.

====

It did not take long for Byleth to complete his trips to the armory. Ferdinand, Petra, Caspar and Hubert finished setting up the training dummies before Byleth. . A little chaotic, but Byleth didn’t see the need to change it. The eighth dummy that Hubert had briefly stood next to had a ginger wig in an apparent imitation of someone. Byleth wondered if it was the past instructor.

All of the Black Eagle house students seemed to be waiting for Byleth to begin. Edelgard and Hubert were talking to one another in a corner. Petra tried to do stretches with Linhardt, but the latter merely flopped over like a wet noodle instead. Taking some initiative, Caspar and Ferdinand were already sparring with one another, axe to lance clashing head to head. Heading towards one of the tables, Byleth picked up a clipboard, a copy of the class roster, and a quill. Dipping the quill in the inkwell, Byleth began to write down a list of the students' names.

“Excuse me, Professor? I don’t see any instrutory tomes or magic-resistant dummies out. Did you forget those?” A voice called out. Turning his head up from the clipboard, Byleth could see Dorothea approaching him. Byleth stared at her in confusion, not sure what she was talking about.

“Tomes are what mages use to practice a spell until they can cast it without them. Remember, you are not trained in magic so you can’t supervise them practicing it.” Sothis reminded him, floating down at eye level for him. 

“I am not certified in any magic so you can’t practice that for today.” Byleth replied, quickly jotting down the name ‘Hat’ besides Dorothea’s name on the parchment. It was the only way he would be able to remember who was who later.

“How disappointing,” Dorothea sighed, genuinely glum. 

“Professor, if I may,” Hubert interrupted, tapping Byleth on the shoulder. “I took the liberty of setting up one magic-resistant training dummy. The one with the hair. I can supervise our practice if need be. Our class has the majority of mages and as the eldest among us, I have the most experience in using magic. I can easily find the required tomes should you allow.”

The sinister student’s request seemed legitimate, giving Byleth pause. Jeritza had warned him in the case of new users, but the older student definitely looked like he had some experience using magic.

“How old are you again…Hubert, right?” Byleth asked cautiously, correlating the retainer’s name from the roster and Edelgard’s earlier mention.

“Yes, Professor. I am twenty years of age.” The older student replied, confirming his name with Byleth as well.

“And how old are the other mages?” Byleth asked once more, avoiding the need to address the others by name.

“Dorothea is eighteen and Linhardt is sixteen.” Hubert answered without pause, long aware of his fellow classmates' personal information as Edelgard’s personal aide.

“Do either of you have experience using magic?” Byleth turned to the other two, his question popping a sleep bubble that had formed from the green-haired boy’s nose. 

“Manuela allowed me to practice with her thunder tome, but I’m not completely used to it. I didn’t know you knew me so well, Hubie.” Hat girl, Dorothea, replied with a wince, before winking at the retainer, who was unimpressed at the display. 

“I’ve greatly studied and briefly practiced faith magic, but am in no dire need to practice it today.” Linhardt yawned, lazy to fault. At least his laziness worked in Byleth’s favour. 

“Alright, for class cohesion, you’re all doing physical training with the regular dummies. I can’t risk any magical accidents today.” Byleth decided, his choice causing the mages to scowl at the news. Silently, Byleth added the word “MAGE” in big letters next to the names ‘Hat,’ ‘Snoozer,’ and ‘Goth.’

“Yeah, sorry. Dealing with magical fires is not my forte. I don’t want you guys accidentally throwing spells at each other.” Byleth answered, looking back upward.

At this point, all the students were standing in front of Byleth, seemingly waiting for something. Realizing that they were in fact waiting for him, specifically instructions of the lesson, Byleth racked his brains to the advice Seteth told him earlier. What did he say to start them with? Ah, right. Warm up runs. Byleth opened his mouth to address his students, only for a familiar voice to interrupt him.

“Byleth, wait! You are missing a student. I only count seven little ones present,” Sothis dutifully informed him. Floating around, she counted aloud pointing at each head. Looking between the students in front of him and the names on his list, he realized she was right; a ‘little one’ was missing. But who? Thinking hard, Byleth managed to pull together a face in his mind.

_ Mop Head. _

“Where’s the fourth girl?” Byleth asked aloud, turning back to the students standing before him. Surely one of them must know where she was.

“Her name is Bernadetta, Professor.” Dorothea reminded him. “She won’t be joining us for class today. She refuses to come out of the changing room. She does that sometimes when she gets… overwhelmed.”

“Not again,” Edelgard sighed. The tall, dark and gloomy companion who reappeared behind her flashed a sympathetic look. Standing beside her, Dorothea gave the white haired girl a sympathetic pat on the back.

“You know, Professor; I think I too am feeling overwhelmed today. Perhaps I should sit this one out as well.” Linhardt casually remarked, slowly drifting towards the exit door.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Caspar exclaimed, grabbing the other boy by his collar and yanking him back. The other boy let out a lethargic whine of protest, but it fell on deaf ears.

“How unfortunate they all cannot be present, but it is what it is. Now if I could make some suggest--hey!” Sothis shouted as she watched Byleth suddenly dart away from the group. With no clue where he was going or what he was doing, Sothis angrily floated after him.

“Where is he going…?” Byleth heard one of the students say. As the space between him and the students grew, he could hear their voices grow quieter and quieter; until they realized where his destination was. Then all hell broke loose.

A few steps just in front of the women’s changing room, Byleth was suddenly stopped as Petra practically jumped in front of him; her arms stretched wide to block him from entering. 

“Professor! That is unappropriate!” The exchange student shouted. Byleth did not even hear the girl running behind him and he had a head star. Needless to say, he was impressed. The girl was _ fast _.

“Professor, stop! Need I remind you this is the _ women’s _ changing room.” Edelgard exclaimed, leading the charge with her fellow students behind her. Beside her were Dorothea and Hubert, with the rest of the boys behind looking upon the scene unsure what to do.

“So?” Byleth replied, somewhat surprised at the intensity of the students’ reaction.

“Byleth, you fool! You can’t go in there! Just let the girl go.” Sothis pleaded, but Byleth ignored her. He wasn’t going to turn a blind eye to this.

“Are you a woman, Professor?” Dorothea angrily questioned him.

”No,” Byleth replied.

“Then you can’t go in there. She could be in the middle of changing.” Dorothea explained, the other two girls nodding their head along with her. Byleth rolled his eyes.

“It’s not something I haven’t seen before. And I’m not into little girls.” He dryly replied. Turning back behind him towards Petra, who was still blocking the door; Byleth tried to see if there was a way to squeeze past her. With their eyes locked between each other, Byleth initially leaned as if he was going to the girl’s right side, only for him to lunge for her left inside.

“Were you raised in a barn?!” Dorothea angrily cried out, her patience snapping. He could hear a snicker coming from one of the male students behind her.

“No entering the inside!” Petra angrily exclaimed, quickly blocking his attempt. Byleth sighed, gritting his teeth as he tried to think of another way in. He could see Sothis angrily floating above the lot of them, shouting Byleth’s name trying to get his attention.

“Professor, while I am relieved you are not into children, that is not the issue here.” Dorothea continued, trying to remain calm and composed. “You are a man trying to enter the women’s changing room while your underage student is present; that is unacceptable. If you go in there, I am going straight to the archbishop.”

_ Critical hit _. Byleth painfully winced as the girl managed to get him right in his proverbial balls. He could not afford pissing off his new boss. Pausing for a moment, he tried to think of what to say to that.

“I doubt the archbishop would approve of a student skipping class. Unless they are dying, everyone must participate.” Byleth countered, his stance unwavering. He could let go on the notion of going in there and getting her himself, but that girl was getting out one way or the other.

“Professor, it really is improper for a man to enter the women’s changing area. Would it not be easier just to ask one of the girls to go in and get her?” Ferdinand said, interjecting himself into the conversation. A brief moment of silence passed as Byleth tried to figure out how he didn’t think of that painfully easy solution himself. He was starting to suspect that Sothis was right; he really was an idiot.

“You’ll learn in the mercenary business that most things get done faster when you do it yourself. But please, someone get her out here.” Byleth coughed before giving impromptu advice, said advice probably suspect considering Sothis’ groan above him.

“I’ll do it. I am house leader after all. Professor, please continue with the class. Bernadetta and I will be out shortly.” Edelgard volunteered, stepping forward. Byleth gave her a quick nod and Edelgard swiftly entered the new hotspot that was the women’s changing room.

“Alright, the rest of you go run two laps around the track and then get to the tables. We’ll begin our lesson there.” Byleth ordered, turning to the rest of the group.

The students began to scatter, making their way to the entrance to the track field. It was a simple path that encompassed the whole grounds of the monastery, but due to the monastery being located in the mountain; it made the trek quite challenging. Littered with steep hills, it was hellish to go through; but provided great endurance training.

Byleth watched as each student left to embark on the track course, realizing there was still one left; Hubert. With a peculiar, creepy glint in his eyes, the dark haired man approached Byleth.

“Hello, Professor. I was hoping we could have a private chat; you and I.” he said, an ominous foreboding emitting from him. Byleth could not help but wonder what was with all these students trying to chat with him today.

“I see you have started taking your new position more seriously, albeit with some rather sloppy attempts. You already managed to cause quite a stir today, haven’t you?” Hubert said, provoking his teacher with a nonchalant jab.

“What do you want?” Byleth said nonchalantly. He didn’t have time for this.

“Fine then, I’ll get right to the point; I noticed that Lady Edelgard has taken something of an interest in you.” Hubert said, crossing his arms across his chest.

“I guess?” Byleth replied. He didn’t think they were particularly close. Although there was the time in the dining hall where the house leaders fought about who Byleth would sit with, and the fact that he saved her from a terrible death from bandits, so maybe…

“Don’t act so glib. You have and it’s blatantly obvious.” Hubert replied sharply, a scowl etched on his face. Byleth could not help but note the intensity in the reply. So it was like that, huh?

“Professor, I will say up front that I am grateful for you stepping in to save Her Highness from bandits, especially after the previous professor displayed such cowardice. However, my gratitude only extends to the public forum.” Hubert paused for a moment, for dramatics or for collecting his thoughts; Byleth couldn’t tell.

“While I am a student here, I am her servant foremost.” He continued, glaring at Byleth once more. “One of my many duties is to determine potential advantages and eliminate potential threats to Lady Edelgard. Remain useful to her and all will be well. But get in her way and I will end you.”

“The nerve of him! How dare he threaten you!” Sothis exclaimed, angrily floating above the two of them. She then hovered over Hubert directly and stared directly into his eyes, as if trying to intimidate him. Hubert remained oblivious to the floating girl, glaring through her. Byleth said nothing and simply waited for the student to finish speaking.

“My family, House Vestra, has been sworn to House Hresvelg for generations. Since the dawn of the Empire, we have worked to protect the emperor by any means necessary. You will not be exempt from this; you have been warned.” Hubert said menacingly, a twisted smirk upon his lips.

Byleth did not respond right away. Closing his eyes, he thought about how he should respond to Hubert’s display of bravado. What was the best way to handle the situation? Finally, he settled with an answer of “Go run five laps.”

“Excuse me? Did you not listen to a word I said?!” Hubert spat. “I don’t think your simpleton mind fully understands the situation at hand. You do not get to make demands here, I--”

“You just threatened your teacher,” Byleth said, interrupting him. “The same teacher who saved the heirs of all three nations of Fodlan. You may be the son of some noble, but I don’t think the archbishop would stand for threats on the lives of her faculty. Why, you might even be suspended or expelled for such a gesture.”

“They should, this one is a scoundrel.” Sothis said. Legs crossed, she observed the exchange between the two men with great interest and concern.

“They wouldn’t dare.” Hubert retorted, giving off a menacing glare towards Byleth.

“Probably,” Byleth admitted. “But do you really want to risk that? Do you want to risk that coming to light and dragging Edelgard with you? Not to mention, if she really likes me as much as you say; I’m sure she’d be disappointed to hear that you threatened me.”

Byleth wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but something he said managed to shut Hubert up for a moment. Byleth watched as the dark haired man clenched his fists tightly and shot glares at his direction. Byleth wasn’t fazed or impressed with the display.

“Fortunately for you, I am feeling generous today. I am willing to overlook it; in exchange for you run five laps right now. So, hop to it or it’s to the archbishop I go.” Byleth continued, smirking as he pointed towards the entrance to the track.

“Wait, that’s it?! That’s all you’re going to do for him as punishment?!” Sothis cried out in astonishment.

“Fuck you.” Hubert angrily spat. Byleth could practically taste the venom.

“Six laps now.” Byleth replied, unfazed. “Would you like to try seven? I’m sure the noble son of House Vestra can run any amount for his mistress.”

“You said five!” The student argued.

“But then you threatened sexual harm upon me, so one more lap for you. Off you go now.” Byleth said, making a shooing motion with his spare hand.

“Damn you!” Hubert hissed.

“Ah, lucky seven. I count damnation as well you know.” Byleth replied, a small smirk upon his lips. Hubert let out a low but sharp growl in frustration and stormed off, leaving his teacher behind. Byleth could hear a few low mumblings of some kind; but couldn’t make them out. Maybe this job did have some good aspects to it after all.

“Byleth, I am concerned. You should not try to incur the ire of that one. He isn’t as little as the rest. Something is off about him. He seems dangerous. You should report his threats to the archbishop at once.” Sothis said with great urgency, a flash of worry upon her face.

“Relax, he’s just showing off. It’s obvious he just likes Edelgard. The only real issue here is that he’s trying way too hard.” Byleth replied, dismissing the girl’s concerns. Looking around him, he made sure nobody was around to see him talk to himself.

“But that does not make any sense, she was not even here to witness the display!” Sothis argued, pointing at the direction of the women’s changing area. Byleth could see Edelgard dragging a very reluctant Bernadetta in the distance.

“Trust me, it’s nothing to worry about.” He assured her. But as he looked at the floating girl, he could tell by her perturbed expression that he was not that convincing.

“Besides, what’s he gonna do? Drown me in eyeliner?” He scoffed, walking to the girls and repeating the warm ups instructions.

====

Fortunately for Byleth, the rest of the class was less eventful. Following Seteth’s advice, Byleth was able to get good observations and assessments of the Black Eagle class that afternoon. They were a rather well rounded group, but as Hubert pointed out before the warm up, a bit too heavy on the mages for Byleth’s liking. Given his lack of experience in magic, he was currently not able to cater to their magic-centered education needs. He could try and get his certification in reason and faith magic, but that would be extra work and did he really want to do that?

With the toll of the monastery bell, the class was signaled to a close. Bernadetta, who had been lying on the ground, worn out from her physical training, sprang to life miraculously and darted off like a startled pegasus. The others followed suit, but not nearly in that much of a hurry. Eager to get going himself, Byleth went ahead and started cleaning up the training grounds. A few minutes later, he was nearly finished with the task, the last training axe in hand, when he was approached by a familiar flash of white.

“Hello again, Professor.” Edelgard said politely, giving a curt bow as greeting. She had changed into her class uniform, seeing as her fresh cape was unwrinkled by the training session. “I just wanted to let you know that I went ahead and smoothed things over with the other Black Eagles, regarding the incident earlier.”

“Oh?” Byleth replied, a little confused. He didn’t realize there were things that needed ‘smoothing over.’

“Yes, I went ahead and explained to them that your years as a travelling mercenary has led you to be unaware of certain social norms. Mercenaries must eat, sleep, and work together on the road; the boundaries for privacy are rather thin, even including those between the sexes.” She explained, apparently having reasoned the reason for his odd behaviour during the training session. The way she phrased it definitely painted him in a better light than before, though not much as he would have liked.

“I see,” Byleth murmured, unsure how exactly to respond to the girl’s comments. She wasn’t wrong, but it did come off as rather extreme. Surely, he wasn’t _ that _ obtuse to social norms?

“Given this new information, my classmates understand and have forgiven your blunder. There should be no problems provided it does not happen again. That being said, Dorothea may take some time to personally forgive you and Bernadetta will most definitely take some time getting used to you. But everyone else should be amicable.”

“She helped you. Thank her, Byleth.” Sothis ordered, glaring at the young man.

“T-Thanks,” he stuttered, casting his eyes down on the ground. Feeling a brief moment of vulnerability, Byleth wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. A brief moment of silence fell between the two as Edelgard silently watched him, trying to get a read on her new teacher.

“Yes, well other than that, I must say you did well today, professor. It was quite clear you were far more in your element today and your combat experience showed.” Edelgard said, quickly changing the subject. Byleth gave a curt nod of thanks.

“If I must be completely honest,” she continued. “I believe I am in part to blame for the earlier fiasco. As house leader, I have yet been able to properly unify and lead my house. Bernadetta’s irregular attendance has been a problem long before you arrived, but I can’t seem to convince the girl to have the motivation to participate. She isn’t the only one with an attendance problem, either.”

“It’s fine.” Byleth calmly replied, a little taken back by the sudden change in conversation. Thinking to himself, he could not help but feel the girl was taking the blame for his bluntness and connecting it to another problem which wasn’t her fault.

“But it’s not fine.” Edelgard argued, serious in her own admonishment. “After all, if I cannot properly lead a handful of students, how will I lead an empire?”

“You have time to learn.” Byleth answered, slightly nervous at the intensity of the conversation. This was well over his pay grade and he felt uncomfortable even talking about it, but felt compelled to say _ something _.

“Do I? Time marches on and it waits for no one. By technicality, my inheritance could fall upon my shoulders at any moment. For the sake of the Empire, I must be ready.” Suddenly silent, the young princess gazed off to the side for a moment; she looked rather somber as her mind was clouded with her thoughts.

Gazing at the silver haired girl cautiously, Byleth was at a loss at what to say. The burdens she seemed to be carrying were very different from his own and far more complex. He did not feel he had the proper experience to be giving her advice, but she was asking him, wasn’t she? Or was she just venting? Unsure, but eager to fill the silence between the two, Byleth awkwardly mumbled “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“Yes, I will; if only because there is no other choice. I must succeed no matter the costs.” She affirmed, flashing Byleth a determined look. Byleth nodded in agreement patting her on the shoulder with a spare hand.

Shelving the axe and checking that the contents were at least a semblance of their past positions; Byleth proceeded to lock both the armory and the equipment shed. Placing the keys in his pocket, Byleth proceeded to head towards the exit of the training grounds with Sothis and Edelgard in tow.

“Professor, do you not need to wait to give the keys to Jeritza? I’m sure he’ll be here any moment.” Edelgard asked, walking a little faster to keep up with her professor’s pace.

“It’s fine. I’m heading to the dining hall and I can give them to him there.” Byleth answered, slowing slightly to carry the conversation with his student.

“By the way, Professor, you are more than welcome to sit with the Black Eagle house any time you’d like.” She replied, smiling softly, having noticed Byleth slow down for her.

“No thanks. Last time I tried sitting with the students, you guys fought over me like a pack of wolves over a piece of meat.” He declined politely, waving as he dismissed the girl’s offer. Byleth recalled how much attention that brought to him and he did not want to go through that again.

“Byleth don’t you dare reject her offer for THAT man!” Sothis cried out, groaning in frustration. “Oh why must you pick the most--”

“Besides,” he continued, not bothering to listen to the green gremlin above him. “I am dining buddies with Jeritza. I fear I may break his heart if I went and sat with someone else.”

“I was not aware you were so close with Jeritza.” Edelgard said, visibly shocked by the news for reasons Byleth knew and some that he didn’t.

“Oh yeah, totally. We are the best of friends.” Byleth dryly replied. Walking beside him, Edelgard could not help but think to herself what a strange man her new teacher was.

====

Coming to, the first thing he heard was the dripping. A loud, slow drip could be heard echoing throughout the dark walls. Another hour and the sound could drive a man insane. The second thing he heard was the low hum of ringing in his ear, like the persistent buzzing of a fly; ready to drive one to madness.

Opening his eyes, the man only saw darkness, as if he hadn’t opened his eyes at all. As he began to adjust to the lack of lighting, he could make out various shapes around him. Taking a deep breath, the man was instead greeted by a foul, metallic odor which permeated the air. A sharp pain stung the back of his head. Trying to reach for the source of the pain, the man’s wrists did not budge. Flailing around, he could feel leather harnesses around his forehead, abdomen, and wrists, restraining him in place. At his feet, he could feel bars of wood around his ankles, locking them in.

Turning his head as far as he could, he did his best to observe his surroundings. A small lit candle could be seen in the far distant corner of the room, its light illuminating a desk with a number of dark-covered tomes and books sitting upon it. Across from him, he could make out the silhouette of a figure sitting across from him in a chair.

“Hello? Who are you? Where am I? What is going on?” the troubled man cried out, his words flooding out like a waterfall. Watching the silhouette, he did not see the figure budge. Moments passed as he waited for a response, but none was given.

“You there! Answer me! I demand you release me immediately! I’ll have you know that I am the esteemed Professor Dawson of the Officer’s Academy! I was handpicked by the archbishop herself! She will not stand for this!” The scholar shouted, his voice echoing across the room. Glaring at the silhouette again, he prayed for a response of some kind. Instead; silence. Cold, dead silence.

A sudden snap of fingers bathed the room in a bright light that seared the unprepared professor’s eyes. Blinking the world back into view, the professor realized that the room had simply been illuminated by multiple candles. Looking back at the person who was sitting across from him, Professor Dawson was horrified at what he saw.

Gouged eyes and chemical burns; the face was almost unrecognizable as human. What little skin was left on the face was covered in dried blood, coming from a gash on the top of the head. The man was strapped to the same kind of chair as the professor, his binds still intact. Fingers deformed and twisted, bone could be seen poking out of the dry, bloodied skin. Mouth open ajar, teeth were visibly missing or broken. The body did not move an inch and remained perfectly still; motionless. Out of the corner of the mouth, a fly crawled out, its belligerent buzzing the only sound heard in the room. This was no person; this was a corpse. The professor couldn’t contain his terrified screams.

“Professor Dawson, I see you have finally awakened.” A voice said behind him, a dark chuckle following after. A hooded man slid into the scholar’s peripheral vision. Removing the hood, a familiar face was revealed with its signature glare and devious grin.

“Von Vestra? Why are you here? Is this madness your doing?!” Professor Dawson demanded, red with rage. The man knew the youth; he was one of his very own students and the son of a nobleman. The esteemed professor could not fathom a person from such esteemed upbringing associated with such heinous acts of violence.

“Nothing gets by you, Professor.” Hubert replied, a sinister smile stretched upon his face. Turning to the sitting corpse behind him, Hubert reached for the array of tools spread out on a small table next to the chair. Humming a humble tune, Hubert examined each tool carefully, contemplating which one would be best fit for his intended purpose.

“Who was that man? Did you kill him?” Professor Dawson inquired, his mind began to race as he wondered what twisted things his former student had in mind for him. The corpse across from him only served to rattle the professor even more, rational thoughts escaping him with each glance.

“He was a lesser noble of the empire. I needed information from him and he refused to comply…at first. Eventually, he needed to be eliminated. I accomplished both tasks. Now, he is no one.” Hubert explained, smirking at the corpse. The scholar shivered.

“The Church will not stand for this!” Dawson exclaimed, shaking nervously. “The Knights of Seiros will come for me! You will not get away with this!”

“Oh, but I already have, Professor.” Hubert replied, cackling to himself. He gazed at a blood-crusted scalpel, shriveling his nose at his carelessness before tossing it aside. New victims required fresh tools. “You see, you are no longer a professor of the Officer’s Academy. They quickly replaced you with another after hearing what you did. You abandoned your students; willingly left them to the wolves just to save your own skin. You are an embarrassment and blight to your precious Church. I imagine that if they saw your face now, well, they might not even think twice about executing you.”

A pitiful whimper escaped Dawson’s lips at the news. Panic began to seep in, his heart racing as he felt doom settle over his fragile psyche. His eyes darted around the room, desperate to find a way out; but he found nothing. Resorting to the only thing he could think of, he began to shout at the top of his lungs. “HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!”

“You can scream and shout to your heart’s content, but know that it will make no difference. No one can hear you.” Hubert explained, a sadistic glint in his eyes. 

“Even if they could, they wouldn’t lift a finger to help you.” His own words gave Hubert an idea, and he searched the table for the implement with a keen gaze.

“Why are you doing this to me? I know nothing!” the older man desperately cried out.

“I’m aware; you are quite the simpleton.” Hubert conceded, sneering at the older man as he picked up what he was looking for. “As for what you are here for, well there is an abundance of reasons; but the simple answer is to tie up loose ends.”

Turning back to the bound professor, Hubert held a small hammer in his hands, a frightening tool paired with the wicked smile spread across his face. He slowly walked towards his sitting captive, each step resounding with the maddening tick of a dying clock. Arriving in front of Dawson, Hubert caressed his hand with a finger, deciding on a point before raising the hammer above his head, eerily similar to a court executioner. Eyes wide with fear, Dawson could only sputter weakly before his reckoning arrived. 

“W-What are you doing?! Don’t you dare--” With great speed and force, the hammer came down and obliterated the man’s finger with an audible ‘crunch.’ Dawson screamed as the pain flared through him. Not sparing a moment, Hubert lifted the hammer again and slammed it down; the sound of the finger bones smashed underneath the force of the hammer rivaling the victim’s broken screams. At the sound of the tenth crushed finger, Hubert paused for a moment as he enjoyed the spectacle of his work.

“W-Why-y…” the academic groaned, writhing in agony from the throbbing, crippling pain. Inflamed, swelling and bleeding from the shattered remains of his nails, he could only wince in horror at the state of his hands. What could he have possibly done to merit such violence?

“Retribution,” Hubert answered, a calm smile on his face. “You know, professor, I would’ve willingly looked the other way. I would’ve let you escape with your life, provided you didn’t show up at the Officer’s Academy again. You did abandon Lady Edelgard, to which I find you cowardly, reprehensible and akin to a sac of dirt imitating human flesh. But even still, the most I would have given you would’ve been a quick, painless death. After all, we thought you would die during the attack.”

Walking back to his tool array, Hubert briefly scanned it for his next implement of pain. Picking up a small pair of iron pliers, Hubert returned to his restrained captive, spinning the tool in his hand; taunting the other man.

“But you made one very grave mistake; you humiliated me. Sending me on that damnable flying beast, despite my protests. I was a laughing stock and what’s worse; it embarrassed Lady Edelgard.” He hissed, traces of seething rage in his eyes. Closing his eyes, Hubert recalled Edelgard’s reaction to the whole ordeal; the disappointment in her eyes unbearable in his memories. 

“But what sealed your fate was not just this. No, it was your audacity to laugh at it all. You laughed at my suffering and gloated about it to your colleagues!” He roared, bringing his face inches away from Dawson’s, screaming at the other man.

“Thus, it is only natural that I return the favor. You thrived at my suffering, so now I shall relish in yours.” Hubert explained, regaining his composure. Taking the pair of small pliers in hand, Hubert grabbed the man by his head; forcefully prying the other man’s mouth open. Making audible voices of protest, Professor Dawson tried to shake his head out of the younger man’s grasp, but with the restraints binding him, it was impossible. Using the pliers, Hubert clamped down on the man’s front tooth and yanked it out; blood gushing from the wound.

The scholar wailed in pain and desperately tried to escape the grasp of the former student; but to no avail. Grinning most fiendishly, Hubert dropped the tooth to a small tray next to him. Leaning forward, he clamped down on another front tooth, and yanked it out. More blood seeped out, spilling onto and staining his white glove. Hot tears streamed down the man’s face.

“I’m taking these as a souvenir of our time together.” Hubert explained, picking the second tooth and inspecting it closely. “I imagine I shall reflect on this memory quite fondly in the future.”

“Please, forgive me. Have mercy, I beg of you.” Dawson groaned softly, physically and emotionally drained from the pain. He could feel himself grow quite lightheaded from the blood loss.

“The time for forgiveness and mercy is gone, Professor. You reap what you sow, and the seeds of retribution grow quite deep.” Hubert replied, placing the second tooth aside on the tray.

“Goddess, please save me! I don’t want to die!” Dawson meagerly cried, his voice starting to give out on him.

“Your precious goddess isn’t here, Professor. The only salvation you will get is through your demise.” Hubert said, eager to crush the man’s futile hopes from his false deity. “But have no fear; you won’t be dying here.”

“I won’t? Truly?” Dawson asked in disbelief. For a moment, there was a flicker of hope and relief in his eyes.

“Of course. For the sake of academics, it would be a waste to just simply kill you. Instead, I’m going to give you to some associates of mine. They are eager to meet you and learn all they can before they kill you. You have devoted your life to teaching; it’s only fitting that your death serves the same purpose.” Hubert said, smiling as he watched the hope in the man’s face flicker away; only to be left with despair.

The former teacher cried some more as Hubert walked to the other side of the room, sifting through a cabinet full of various potions, poisons, elixirs, and chemical compounds. Taking a few in hand, Hubert carefully brought them back to the spot with Professor Dawson, placing them on the tray next to his prisoner.

“But I must confess I don’t want to give you up quite yet. After all, there is so much I have yet to learn from you, professor. Think of it as a little one-on-one after hours tutoring session; just you and me. I’ve made special brews just for the occasion.” Hubert replied, calmly gazing at the miserable sight before him. With a flask in his spare hand, Hubert hovered it above the man’s head. Professor Dawson flashed a fearful look as he prepared for the worst.

“So, let us begin.” Hubert said, carefully pouring the flask of acid on the man’s face. Watching the steam rise from the chemical reaction, Hubert calmly hummed a joyful tune as he listened to his victim cry out in pain.

====

Lying on his bed and donned in his loungewear clothes, Ferdinand von Aegir was engrossed in a book on the history of the Adrestian Empire. A large, thick book; Ferdinand was only halfway through chapter fifty two when the flash of a bright light enveloped the room. Unfazed, the ginger haired man did not turn his eyes away from the book as he spoke. “You missed dinner.”

“There was an urgent matter that I needed to tend to.” Hubert replied, stepping out of the magical circle for the teleportation spell. It was a spell of great convenience for mages, but very expensive to use regularly. In the couple weeks that they had been there, Ferdinand had seen Hubert use it on a couple of occasions; usually at odd hours in the night.

“What was it? Where did you go?” Ferdinand inquired, finally looking up from his book. Ferdinand was quite curious as to what matters were urgent enough that it took Hubert’s attention away from serving his precious Edelgard or his academics.

“Mind your own business, von Aegir.” Hubert murmured, sounding rather tired. A typical response from the other student; he has not once talked about his trips. Ferdinand could only assume it was regarding matters for Edelgard or her father, the emperor.

“Hmph, suit yourself. But listen, we must discuss what happened this morning…” Ferdinand said, placing his book down and sitting upright on his bed.

“What is there to discuss? Other than that you are a self-absorbed fool?” Hubert groaned, wearily sitting at the edge of his own bed, slowly taking off his shoes.

“I realize that neither of us enjoys our living situation. Personally, you are the last person I would ever want to be stuck with as a roommate.” Ferdinand said, ignoring the insult his roommate gave him.

“How amusing, the sentiment is mutual.” Hubert replied, sparing a glance at the other man. “Guess that is one of the few things we have in common.”

“But it is the reality we are faced with.” Ferdinand continued, ignoring the other man’s words. “So with that in mind, I propose a compromise; you get first call on the mirror in the morning, for you do not take nearly as long as I do. That should give you plenty of time to go assist Edelgard each morning.”

“Hm, a reasonable solution; how out of character for you. Tell me von Aegir, are you unwell?” Hubert sneered sarcastically.

“Enough with the jests, Hubert. It is simply the noble thing to do in the situation.” Ferdinand replied proudly, pushing his hair back out of his face. Hubert silently prayed he would be spared of one of Ferdinand’s speeches on nobility. It was mind-numbingly tiresome to hear it once, let alone nearly every day.

“Oh, that reminds me. Here, I saved you some bread rolls from dinner. You may be disagreeable and an unpleasant individual; but everyone needs to eat.” Ferdinand said as he reached underneath his pillow, pulling out a small cloth sack and tossing it towards Hubert, who caught it swiftly grasped it by the neck.

“How generous and considerate of you. I am so relieved I will not wither and waste away tonight.” Hubert sarcastically replied as he inspected the contents of the bundle. He was almost surprised at the gesture, but it was not out of character for Ferdinand to do such frivolous gestures.

“You jest, but I’ll have you know that this was not an easy task. Seteth must be the incarnation of Saint Indech; he has the eyes of a hawk and is relentlessly vigilant. Nothing slips past him. You should be grateful.” Ferdinand said, recalling all the times he and the other Black Eagle boys tried to sneak food outside the dining hall. Caspar was never successful; he was not sneaky enough. Linhardt was very skilled in the act and often had to sneak Caspar’s share of the loot. Ferdinand was not nearly as good at the task as Linhardt, but was not as obvious as Caspar.

Quietly watching Hubert open the cloth bundle and dine on the bread rolls, Ferdinand’s eyes stumbled upon something quite peculiar and concerning. “Wait, is that--Hubert, you are injured!”

“What are you talking about now?” Hubert spat, in between bites on his food. He was surprised when Ferdinand practically leaped out from his bed and ran up to Hubert’s side; the older student leaning back to preserve his personal space.

“Your gloves. They’re covered in blood!” Ferdinand exclaimed, pointing at both his hands. “I think there’s some on your shirt too. Did you get in a fight? You should go to the infirmary right away.”

Hubert’s heart began to race slightly as he was caught with quite literally red handed. He forgot that he still had Professor Dawson’s blood all over him. He had been sloppy and careless; something he couldn’t afford.

“No, this is nothing.” Hubert replied, hoping to not draw suspicion. “I… simply had a bloody nose earlier. It was set off by some bitter poultices I was practicing with for Herbology.”

“Hubert that is a lot of blood; you should really get seen by Manuela.” Ferdinand replied, flashing a concerned look at his roommate.

“It is unnecessary. Leave me be, von Aegir. The smell had long stopped irritating me.” Hubert replied coldly, dismissing the other boy. It was annoying at how nosey Ferdinand could be; but Hubert was grateful that the man was a naïve imbecile. He didn’t question Hubert’s deflections, nor his odd behaviours.

“You are so stubborn. Fine, face peril at your own accord. Let it be known that I tried to convince you.” Ferdinand said, lifting his arms upward; gesturing that he had given up, delving back into the reign of Ionius von Hresvelg III. It seemed like he was notable for his vibrant hair color, and having been deposed and slowly amassing an army to retake his throne.

A brief moment of silence fell between the two. Hubert finished eating his dinner while Ferdinand turned back to continue his book. Grabbing the divider that stood at the end of the room, Hubert placed it between him and Ferdinand’s field of vision; granting the dark haired student a place to change in peace. But as he lifted his leg to put on his loungewear shorts, a sudden pain erupted from the top of his thighs. Hissing audibly from the pain, he looked upwards to see his roommate shooting a glare at him.

“Oh, shut up. It’s muscle pain. I pulled it in training today. That damn professor made me run seven laps.” Hubert spat, successfully sliding on his shorts. Grabbing a spare shirt from the dresser, he quickly threw it on. Removing the divider, Hubert slowly walked back towards his bed.

“The professor? What did you do to make him give you that punishment?” Ferdinand inquired, gazing up from his book. But to his mild surprise, his roommate said nothing. Lying down, his back facing Ferdinand; Hubert silently ignored the other boy.

“Then I must assume you deserved it. You have no one to blame but yourself.” Ferdinand assessed, assuming the worst of his roommate. “Personally, I rather like our new professor. He lacks some social etiquette, but it is nice to learn from someone so experienced. At the very least, I like him more than our previous professor. Hopefully this one sticks around much longer than the last.”

Silently, Hubert pondered about the new professor. The man was strangely not intimidated by his threats. Hubert wasn’t sure if that was something to be impressed by, or the man was simply as much of a fool as that idiot Dawson. Regardless, he looked forward to the day that the professor had lived up his use and was no longer in Lady Edelgard’s favor. Hubert von Vestra looked forward to the day Professor Byleth could meet the same fate as his predecessor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they were roommates!
> 
> Huge thanks/credit to my beta reader, Dtale! 
> 
> Past couple of months have been particularly crazy, so hope everyone stays safe! Hope you enjoyed the chapter as well. <3


	9. Lions in Faerghus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been awhile! Hope everyone is doing alright! Times are tough, but just remember this is all temporary and we will get through it!   
Please enjoy the new chapter!

Verdant Wind

Great Tree Moon

Chapter 9: Lions in Faerghus

====

_ Year 1170 _

_ “Are we there yet?” _

_ Deep in the woods of Fraldarius territory, a youth led a small band of children. It was a long path they were trekking along on, but they had left early and as long as they returned before dusk they would be fine. At fifteen years of age, Glenn Fraldarius was the leader of their venture. Dimitri knew him as the older brother of one of his friends, but he was a close friend of Dimitri’s as well. Glenn told them that the trail was pretty safe, but assured them if any trouble arose, he would take care of it. Given that Glenn was much older and a good fighter, young Dimitri had no reason to be concerned. _

_ “No,” the dark haired teen wearily replied. He had answered that very same question a total of five times now. _

_ “Ugh, this is taking forever. Let’s go back.” Sylvain groaned. At ten years old, the boy was about two years older than the rest of the kids, but it clearly did not show. _

_ “Man, I had no idea we had such whiners on this trip. Tch! And I forgot to bring the cheese.” Glenn wryly said as he palmed his forehead, turning towards the boy behind him. _

_ “No cheese!?!?” Young Dimitri cried out, excited by the mention of food but promptly mortified by the lack of his favorite cheese. He was walking next to Sylvain, faring much better than his older friend, who had been mostly just complaining for half of the excursion. _

_ “Ugh, don’t talk about food right now, please. I’m soooooo hungry.” Ingrid complained, hand on her stomach as the other held tight to the hem of Glenn’s tunic. Her attachment to the older boy meant that she had to keep pace with the much taller Glenn, working harder to match his longer strides. It boiled down to the fact that she needed more fuel. _

_ “But Glenn, my feet hurt. Are you sure they aren’t going to fall off?” Sylvain cried out. Even Dimitri’s feet were starting to get sore, and the boy was a poster child for physical fitness and endurance. _

_ “Sylvain, I promise you will not die from walking. Now quit complaining. We’re almost there. We’ll have a nice, long break when we get there.” Glenn said, turning his attention back to the trail.  _

_ “Come on, Sylvain. This is fun! We’ll be there soon enough.” Dimitri said, turning towards the boy beside him. Having grown up in the capital, Dimitri never went outside the castle much; not without a proper escort, and even then, the view had always been obscured by his guards. There were times he went horseback riding with his father, but he only ever got to go out like this when he went to visit his friends’ homes with his father. It was always very exciting for the prince. _

_ “Fine, but I don’t get what’s so fun about hiking. We should’ve just made this a camping trip.” Sylvain griped, his face falling into a sulk as he wiped the sweat from his untamed red locks. _

_ “With how much you complain about hiking, I doubt you could handle a camping trip.” Glenn argued. _

_ “I went camping before and it was fun. We should all do that together someday. We can even leave Sylvain at home.” Ingrid replied, her eyes beaming at the idea. Ingrid was Glenn’s fiancée from birth. Dimitri didn’t understand what that meant other than that one day Ingrid would marry Glenn. As it so happened, Ingrid really liked Glenn and was always super proud to be known as his fiancée. _

_ “Hey!” Sylvain cried out, not a fan of the idea of being left behind. Dimitri couldn’t help but giggle at the boy’s reaction. _

_ “I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, let’s--Hey Felix, what are you doing back there?! Get over here, now!” Glenn exclaimed, shouting towards the direction behind the group. Turning around, Dimitri could see his friend Felix far behind them, crouching on the side of the trail looking at something on the ground. _

_ “Just a minute! I found something!” the boy shouted, still crouched over. Felix usually kept with the group; so Dimitri could not help but be curious as to what his friend had found. _

_ “Hurry up! You’re gonna get left behind.” Glenn said, crossing his arms. Though he liked to say such things, Dimitri knew that Glenn was far too concerned to leave Felix behind. _

_ “Ah, wait! I’m coming, hold on!” Felix cried out in a panic, falling for his brother’s empty threats. The boy rushed over in a sprint, holding something clasped in his hands. _

_ “Sylvain! I got something for you!” Felix cheered, a little jittery from excitement. _

_ “Let me guess, another flower?” Sylvain sighed, far too tired to even try to put on a fake smile. _

_ Maybe it was because Sylvain was older than the others, but Felix tended to cling to him the most. He was always the most excited whenever Sylvain was around and shadowed him constantly. Some days, Sylvain liked the attention. Other days, he found it annoying. Flowers were the most common thing Felix liked to give to people. But Sylvain didn’t like them; he’d much rather receive something like that from a girl. Dimitri didn’t understand it himself; he loved flowers, especially from his friends. _

_ “Nope, it’s something else. Guess what it is!” Felix beamed, unable to keep still.  _

_ “I don’t know.” Sylvain said, stumped as to what it could be. “I give up, just show me.” _

_ “Okay, but you gotta look closely or you won’t see it!” Felix said, giggling softly. At this point, everyone in the group was curious as to what on earth the boy had found. Bringing his face in closer, Sylvain was only a few inches away from Felix’s closed hands. Smiling, Felix opened his hands and sitting inside was a toad. With a loud croak, the toad jumped forward and landed straight on Sylvain’s face. _

_ “Ah! Get it off, get it off!” Sylvain cried out, flailing around as he tried to remove the slimy creature. Felix was roaring in laughter, unable to control himself. Although surprised, Dimitri soon found himself laughing at the sight. Disgusted, Sylvain managed to get the toad off of him, and the creature quickly hopped away. _

_ “Hey Sylvain, you better go after it. If you give it a kiss, it’ll turn into a princess.” Glenn said, grinning widely. Dimitri can faintly recall a story like that from a book. _

_ “No, that only happens to frogs. That was a toad.” Felix corrected him. _

_ “Same thing,” Glenn said, dismissing his younger brother. Dimitri silently wondered to himself what the difference between the two was. He’d have to ask Felix later. _

_ “Ugh, you both are gross. You’re going to get warts now cause you touched it.” Ingrid replied, not nearly as impressed as the others. _

_ “Wait, that’s a thing?!” Sylvain said, shocked. “B-But it touched my face! Am I gonna get warts all over my face now?!” _

_ “Probably,” Ingrid nonchalantly replied. Suddenly, the young prince felt very sorry for his friend. _

_ “Felix, this is your fault! I hate you!” Sylvain shouted, sending a mean glare at his friend before running off the trail. _

_ “W-What?!” Felix sniffed, his voice starting to crack. It did not take long for the waterworks to begin. “Please, don’t hate me! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it! Come back! Sylvain!” _

_ Tears streaming down his face, Dimitri watched as the younger boy chased after his friend. He really was a crybaby. Turning towards the other two, he watched as Ingrid started to go after them. _

_ “Hey, don’t go running off! You both are going to get lost!” Ingrid called out, looking irritated. Although she always complained about it, she was the one who would always volunteer to help rescue one of them or help clean up their mess; usually Sylvain’s. Next to him, Dimitri could see Glenn still smiling at the whole scene. _

_ “Is it true? Can you get warts from touching toads?” Dimitri asked, genuinely curious. It didn’t sound right, but he never went around touching toads, so he wouldn’t know. _

_ “No, that’s just an urban legend.” Glenn explained, relieving the prince of his concern. “And kissing frogs won’t turn them into princesses, either.” _

_ “I-I knew that!” Dimitri said defiantly, his face flushed from embarrassment. Glenn just laughed at the boy’s reaction to his teasing; ruffling the boy’s blond hair in a gesture of affection. It was times like this where Dimitri wished Glenn was his big brother, too. _

====

4/24, Year 1180

Sitting in the middle of the third year Blue Lions house’s table, a heavy yawn escaped the lips of one Sylvain Gautier. Lazily scratching the bright red hair on his head, the Gautier heir fought the weariness on his eyelids and took a brief scope of his surroundings. The dining hall was rather quiet; given that it was breakfast this was not all too surprising. Most students often opted to skip eating for an extra hour of sleep; Sylvain himself was quite tempted to do the same.

The Blue Lions table in particular was notably empty. Dimitri was present, tired as one would expect. Sitting next to his liege, Dedue sat; alert and attentive. But those were all that were present at their table. Sylvain surmised that Felix and Ingrid were still finishing up on their morning training routines, while the rest were still in the food line. Back to being bored once more, Sylvain let loose another yawn.

“Out late on the streets again, Sylvain?” Dimitri peered, shooting an accusatory glare at his childhood friend and classmate. It wasn’t every day that one would be childhood friends with a prince, let alone classmates, but while Sylvain treasured his friendship with Dimitri, Sylvain wished the blonde prince could be just a little less uptight and rigid. He was almost as bad as Ingrid.

“Oh no, Your Highness. I was just up late studying with a tutor. It’s still a bit early, but I want to stay on top of my grades this year.” Sylvain replied calmly, taking a bite out of an apple from the plate in front of him. Sylvain felt a tinge of guilt for lying to a friend, but sometimes white lies were necessary for any relationship. The prince wouldn’t need to know the depths Sylvain stooped to.

“Do not lie to me, Sylvain. You were with a girl.” Dimitri replied, his tone drenched in irritation. Sylvain swore he could even hear a light growl from the prince.

“Ah, you wound me, your Highness! Don’t tell me you can suddenly read minds now.” Sylvain replied half-heartedly. Stumped as to how his friend could know such a detail, Sylvain racked his brains for clues.

“On the return to your room, you both were very loud; she especially so.” Dimitri answered, casting his eyes to the side.

“We didn’t wake you up, did we?! Oh man, no wonder you’re so cranky.” Sylvain observed, feeling very guilty. He knew how much of a light sleeper Dimitri was and how hard it was for him to get back to sleep. Fortunately, Sylvain and the girl had already done the bulk of their activities somewhere else, but as the two walked back to the dormitories, well…they just couldn’t keep their hands off each other! How could such an upstanding gentleman say no to such a beautiful face?

“Sylvain…” Dimitri said, glaring at the red head once more.

“Look, I wasn’t lying. We were studying…briefly. Eventually, we ended up changing topics. She gave me a rather explicit lesson and I just couldn’t refuse…” Sylvain said, cracking a wide smile as he recalled his ‘anatomy lessons’ with the girl. He couldn’t remember her name, but boy he could certainly remember those delicious, delicious thighs.

“Enough!” Dimitri shouted, loud enough to catch the attention of a few passersby. Sylvain was a little taken aback by the intensity, but given the prince was clearly sleep deprived because of him, he couldn’t entirely blame him.

“You need to cease this foolish behavior. I’ve told you this before, but you do not listen. Have some self-respect, please.” Dimitri pleaded, his anger wasting away into exhaustion and frustration.

“I am sorry we woke you up. I promise we’ll be more quiet—ah!” Halfway through his faulty promise, Sylvain stopped abruptly as a sudden ‘thwuack!’ stunned him and he felt a sharp sting on the back of his head. Turning around, he could see Felix staring him down with a knife hand still raised from chopping the other boy.

“Ow! What was that for?” Sylvain questioned the silent attacker, feigning offence at the slowly-becoming-daily occurrence.

“For being shameless. And for missing morning training... _ again _ . You promised you would come.” Felix let out with a huff, the back of his shirt damp from exertion, his hair still glistening with sweat. Sitting next down to Sylvain, Felix scanned the area around the table. He cast a scowl at Dedue and Dimitri and shifted his attention back at Sylvain. After a moment of silence, Felix swiftly snatched the banana nut muffin off of Sylvain’s plate and took a hungry bite out of it.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Sylvain cried out. He had been saving that for the end.

“Not anymore” Felix said, hiding a light smirk behind the muffin. For a brief moment, the table was quiet as the residents silently ate their food except for Sylvain, who was still hissing from Felix’s chop. Dimitri sat awkwardly as he watched his childhood friend continue to snub him, struggling with what to say. Dedue was sympathetic to the prince, but remained silent as he suspected any involvement from him would only make things worse.

“But seriously Sylvain, you’ve been slacking on your training too much; from now on I’m just dragging you out of bed myself.” Felix continued, breaking the silence at the table. Eyeing the red head’s plate again, Felix snatched a handful of grapes off of the boy’s plate the moment his head was turned.

“Come on, Felix. A man needs his beauty sleep. My training is just fine; you just take your training to a whole different level. And stop that! Go get your own food.” Sylvain protested, glaring at the dark haired man beside him. When his dark haired peer pointedly ignored his protests, a thought suddenly occurred to Sylvain.

“You know, you probably just don’t want to train by yourself.” Sylvain stated. “Why not invite Dimitri to come along instead? How about it Dimitri? Up for some grueling early morning training?”

“I would most certainly be honored to be your companion in training practices, Felix. That is, if you are alright with the idea.” Dimitri replied earnestly, his eyes lighting up at the thought.

To say things had been awkward between Dimitri and Felix as of late would be a grave understatement. Sylvain had a general idea of what happened between the two, but even he was taken aback at some of the things that Felix would say to Dimitri. Perhaps this was the sort of thing that could help them mend their relationship; help work things out.

“The boar needs no training; he needs to be restrained.” Felix spat, shooting a smouldering glare at the prince. Dimitri looked disappointed, but not surprised by the response. Dedue flashed a sympathetic look next to the prince, but remained silent. Sighing to himself, Sylvain desperately tried to find a way to deviate the conversation at the table, and fortunately, one came right towards them.

A pair of familiar, lady-like giggles could be heard coming from their left. Turning to the direction, Sylvain saw Mercedes and Annette approaching the table, with a smiling Ashe trotting right behind them.

“Good morning, everyone!” Mercedes cheered. The boys sitting at the table replied the greeting in kind, except for Felix who merely grunted in response.

“Good morning gu--ahhh!” Annette cried out, tripping on her own feet and she began to tumble. But as she and the food in her hands were about to hit the ground, a pair of large brown arms suddenly reached out and grabbed her; pulling her back onto her feet and avoiding disaster. A collective sigh of relief escaped from the lips at the table.

“Ah, a great catch Dedue!” Ashe cheerfully called out, having watched the scene unfold. He had lunged to try and do the same, but he was still a little slow compared to Dedue.

“Be careful, Annie!” Mercedes cautioned her friend, albeit a little too late, straightening out her friend’s ruffled hair instead.

“Oh man, sorry about that. Thanks so much, Dedue. I didn’t even lose any of my breakfast! I’m so relieved.” Annette sighed. Looking at her plate of mostly solid foods, everything had managed to remain intact and on the plate. Sylvain was reminded of the first week of the Officer’s Academy that year, and how Annette managed to trip and sent a whole bowl of oatmeal flying onto the other Blue Lions. Sylvain swore he could still smell the syrup in his hair even now. Or perhaps it had been a remnant of the throes of his passion. There were similar dining mishaps from the girl, but none nearly as catastrophic.

“It’s no problem,” Dedue replied dutifully, giving a curt bow before he returned to his seat. Annette, Mercedes, and Ashe quickly reached their spots and began to settle in. Silently watching the others as they ate and talked amongst themselves, Sylvain realized they were short one person.

“Has anyone seen Ingrid yet?” He spoke up, motioning towards her empty spot at the table. Dimitri had nagged on him so much earlier that he totally forgot that he was missing Ingrid’s daily scolding. Sylvain looked towards the entrance to the Dining Hall and the food line and failed to spot her.

“She was training last time I saw her. Unlike someone I know.” Felix replied curtly, giving Sylvain a light kick under the table. The others at the table shook their heads silently, having no clue to her whereabouts.

“Huh, weird.” Sylvain said, slightly surprised. “Wonder what is keeping her? She would never be late to stuffing her face.”

====

“Bernadetta, it’s me. Please open the door.”

Ingrid stood awkwardly in the hallway of the girl’s dormitories, just outside her bedroom door. She could see other girls buzzing about, going in and out of rooms as they prepared to for the day. Ingrid had just come back from early morning training, something she did quite regularly. She had returned to her room to grab a few things, but was dismayed to discover that she had left her key in the room. Unfortunately for Ingrid, her roommate had locked the door after she had left and now she had no way back inside.

“Listen, I left my key inside the room. I can’t open the door.” Ingrid said, knocking and speaking soft enough not to disturb others or gather too much attention. Placing an ear against the door, she listened out for a response or any sign of movement, but got nothing.

“Bernadetta, I know you’re in there.” Ingrid said again, a little louder this time. She knew the girl’s schedule; there were only maybe two or three places the girl would go in the day. Dining hall and room; that’s it. Bernadetta woke up real early to beat the dining hall rush each morning, then raced back to her room and only came out again during meal times. Ingrid had heard rumors that Bernadetta liked to hang out in the greenhouse, but she wasn’t sure how this was possible; it seemed like she never left her room to go anywhere else.

“I just need to grab a few things and then I’ll go.” She called out, knocking much louder than previously. Placing her ear against the door once more, she listened closely for a response.

“…liar.” A voice said beyond the door. Ingrid could barely make out what she said, but she definitely recognized it as Bernadetta’s.

“Excuse me?” Ingrid replied, confused as to what she had just heard. Ingrid thought she heard the girl say something but there was no way that she said  _ that _ . No way, she wouldn’t…

“Y-You’re a liar! The moment I open the door you’re going to drag me to class, just like all those times before. I don’t want to go!” Bernadetta cried out from inside the room, confirming Ingrid’s suspicions.

“You need to go to class Bernadetta, but right now I just want to get my stuff so I can go to the dining hall. Open the door.” Ingrid ordered, feeling agitation grow within her. She was not a fan of her rooming companion.

“No, this is my room! I want to be left alone! Bernie isn’t bothering anyone. Why can’t anybody see this…” Bernie whimpered. Ingrid rolled her eyes. She knew the other girl wasn’t thrilled about their living arrangement either, but could she not be reasonable for one second?

“It’s my room too.” Ingrid reminded her. “Open the door.”

“It’s so nice in here when there is nobody else around. I’m all safe and sound in my room. No stressful lectures, no scary professors, and no bossy roommates. Nobody can bother ol’ Bernie here. No siree~ All safe and cozy here in my room.” Bernie cheerfully rambled, breaking out into a slight hum at the end. Ignoring Ingrid, she sucked herself into her own world. Ingrid was not impressed.

“You’re going to make me late, Bernadetta. If this keeps this up I am going to--” Suddenly, as if on cue, the chiming of the monastery’s bells rang out; signaling the new hour. It quickly dawned on Ingrid the significance of this.

“…miss breakfast,” Ingrid mumbled dumbfounded as her stomach weakly growled. “I missed  _ breakfast _ !”

A wave of anger rushed through the blonde girl. Breakfast was the most important meal of the day and Ingrid hated to miss meals. She was already hungry and now she would have to wait hours before the next meal. Angrily, she pounded on the door and cried out, “Bernadetta, open the door  _ right now _ !”

“You can’t make me! I won’t! Just go away!” The purple haired girl cried out defiantly. Growling as she gritted through her teeth, Ingrid felt something snap.

“Oh, that is  _ it _ !” she cried out. Backing up a few paces, she made a running start as she drove her leg into the door with a flying kick. A loud crunch could be heard as her foot made an impact, and Ingrid could hear some loud gasps from onlookers. Landing in front of the door, Ingrid changed her stance, blasting through the door with a well-placed fist, allowing the rest of her body to break through.

“No! No! Nooooo, you can’t do that! What have you done?! The gate to my sanctuary; it’s ruined!!” Bernadetta screamed, tears welling in her eyes as she scurried into a corner, an effigy of Saint Seiros in her hand pointed at the door.

“It’s not just yours.” Ingrid barked, dusting off the shattered remains of the door stuck in her uniform. Alas, Ingrid wanted nothing but sheer wanton destruction, examining the lady knight sized hole in the door with satisfaction.

Watching the other girl enter the room, Bernadetta practically flew from the exposed corner to her bed and cowardly retreated under the covers. Ingrid let out a low growl as she watched the other girl flee. Taking a moment to collect herself, Ingrid suddenly remembered what she was there for in the first place. Turning towards her dresser, she began to pull out a few things and placed them in her pocket. It was truly all such a simple matter, why couldn’t Bernadetta just be reasonable?

Glancing towards Bernadetta’s direction, Ingrid saw a quivering mop of purple hair poke out to glance at her intruder. Realizing that she had been caught looking, Bernadetta shrieked and sheepishly retreated back under the blankets. Remembering the misfortune she was responsible for, Ingrid scowled and angrily motioned towards the shaking bundle of sheets and blankets.

“What are you doing?! Go away!” Bernadetta squeaked underneath the covers, as the sounds of Ingrid’s footsteps came closer. Staring down at the other girl as she stood right in front of her; the bundle of blankets was now violently shaking. On any other day, Ingrid might have felt sorry for her. But today was not that day.

Leading with a fierce roar that could have been, Ingrid violently jerked the blanket upwards from atop the other girl. A shriek escaped from the small bundle as both Bernadetta and the blanket were flung into the air. The smaller girl was saved from hitting the ground by Ingrid, who caught Bernadetta by the collar of her clothes. As the blanket softly fell to the ground, Ingrid turned her attention to Bernadetta, hissing, “ _ Get up _ .”

“What?! Why?! Oh, what sort of cruel, twisted things are you gonna make me do?! Are you going to hurt me?! Are you going to torture me?!” Bernadetta cried out as she struggled in Ingrid’s iron grip, nightmarish delusions of punishment flying through her mind threatening to make her faint. Ingrid could feel her patience waning once more.

“We are going to go to class.” Ingrid stated, leaving no room for Bernadetta to argue.

“What?! But you said you weren’t going to make me go!” Bernadetta exclaimed, looking almost hurt. “I knew you would do this! You ARE a liar!”

“That was  _ before _ you made me miss breakfast. Now let’s go!” Ingrid ordered, fists clenching as she could feel her anger building up once more.

“I won’t do it! Leave me alone! Go away!” The purple haired girl protested, renewing her struggle in the stronger student’s grip, to no avail.

“You are coming with me even if I have to drag you out! Now let’s go!” Ingrid growled as she marched out of the room, Bernadetta held aloft in one arm as if she were a hunted rabbit. Her stomach twisted in hunger, but Ingrid held fast to her goal of getting Bernadetta to the lecture hall.

“Noooo! Let go!” Bernadetta screamed, absolutely mortified as the duo passed through the hole in the door. “Someone please, help! Save me!”

It was nothing but screams and shouts coming from that room. The volume echoed throughout the hallway, attracting spectators of all kinds. Ingrid could hear other students shout at them to stop; while others would cheer them on. Neither Ingrid in her resolve nor Bernadetta in her shock paid them any mind.

Kicking her legs with a great flurry, Ingrid felt a firm blow from Bernadetta to her weakened stomach; forcing the older girl to lower Bernadetta to the ground as she cringed, her free hand rubbing her stomach to stave off the pain and hunger.

The moment she touched the ground, Bernadetta haphazardly grabbed anything she could and chucked it at the other girl. Pillows, stuffed animals, a lamp; it all went flying. For whatever Ingrid couldn’t dodge, she blocked with her spare arm with ease; but the lamp did hurt quite a bit.

Suddenly, both girls felt another person enter the fray. Before Ingrid could look behind her to see who it was, a familiar flash of green broke the two apart with unexpected strength.

“Enough!” the figure shouted. Swiftly, Seteth stood between the girls, his glare freezing Bernadetta in her tracks and a hand held out at Ingrid to prevent her from diving for the younger student. Both were quite surprised to see him.

“Outside, both of you.” He firmly ordered, glaring at both girls. Silently, they complied, Bernadetta slightly more hesitant than her counterpart; stepping outside into the hallway with the onlookers. Seteth took notice of their unnecessary presence very quickly.

“The rest of you; leave before you are late for class.” Seteth said to the crowd, making a shoo-ing motion with his hands. Low grumblings of disappointment were heard throughout, but the students complied. Seteth waited until all the students had dispersed before turning his attention back to the girls.

“Would either of you like to explain what on earth happened here?” Seteth quietly inquired, gesturing to the broken door and chaos that was beyond it. It did not take a second before the words left his mouth the two students began to talk; all at once, loudly, and in great fervor. Ingrid could feel her mouth running a mile a minute as she tried to talk over the other girl. But Seteth couldn’t make a single word out of either of them.

“One at a time, please.” Seteth calmly urged. He pointed to Ingrid first.

“Bernadetta locked me out of our room!” She blurted out, sheepishness and anger mixing into her voice.

“No, you locked yourself out!” Bernadetta protested, anxiously glancing at Seteth’s direction. Under normal circumstances, she would not be able to hold a conversation with the man. But as the saying goes, desperate times call for desperate measures.

“And you wouldn’t open it for me! I missed breakfast because of you!” Ingrid angrily replied. Unbeknownst to her, she was slowly inching closer to Bernadetta. Seteth did not fail to pick up on that and rebuffed her advance with a motion for the girl to step back. Becoming conscious of herself, Ingrid complied, a slight red dusting her cheeks.

“Bernadetta, did you purposefully keep Ingrid out of the room?” Seteth inquired, lowering his arm into a resting pose behind his back, satisfied by Ingrid’s response before turning towards the purple haired girl.

“W-Well, Ingrid broke down the door! She was mean, made a mess of the room, and grabbed me! She tried to hurt me!” Bernadetta replied, shrinking from all the attention that was now upon her.

“I did not!” Ingrid protested. “I was trying to get you to go to class.”

“I don’t want to go!” Bernadetta answered, her head covered by her hands as she quivered on the ground.

“But that is what you’re here for;  _ to learn _ .” Ingrid reminded her, folding her arms across her chest. “These past couple of weeks you have been doing nothing but skipping out on classes, blowing off your chores, and--”

“Ingrid, enough.” Seteth interjected, catching the girl off guard. She thought surely the academic advisor of all people would understand her point of view. But the weariness on his face gave her the impression that he had more pressing concerns.

“From the testimonies you both have given me, I believe I have been able to surmise the situation well enough. But first, let me say something to each of you.” Seteth sternly began. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before he spoke.

“Ingrid, look behind you.” Seteth gestured, finally bringing the blonde student’s attention to the dormitory she had left behind. A first-year girl held her hand as blood dripped from it. The lamp that had hit Ingrid and was subsequently deflected flew straight at the first-year, who lacked the same physical prowess to repeat what Ingrid had done. The hallway itself was a complete mess, with all the things that Bernadetta had thrown about littering a war path to where they were now.

“No matter your intentions, this is not acceptable at the Officer’s Academy; nor will it ever be. I have my hands full with broken doors as is.” He explained, his expression withering as his eyes met Ingrid’s as he spoke. Listening to his words, Ingrid could feel a twinge of guilt from her actions, and felt a growing sense of shame within.

“Furthermore,” he continued. “While admirable, the affairs of Bernadetta are not of yours to be concerned with. If you believe there is a matter of concern with a fellow student; you must inform faculty or the knights and leave it to them. Though you do have my thanks. Now that I am aware, I will personally see to it that the Bernadetta’s attendance improves.”

“No…” Bernadetta whimpered. Though she tried to remain not the center of attention, she could not help herself but respond to Seteth’s words.

“As for you Bernadetta, although it is not an explicit rule, keeping your roommate out of their own living quarters is discourteous and unkind. While you may not be in an environment that is desirable, you should always be considerate of those around you and strive towards compromise.” Seteth said, turning to the younger girl. His gaze only caused the girl to look even more distressed.

“Now, academy regulations do dictate a punishment be given in situations like these,” he continued. “But as the first time something like this has occurred, a warning will be sufficient. I expect the both of you to help clean the mess with the knights before going to class. So that this does not repeat again, I suggest--”

“I-I want a new roommate!” Bernadetta blurted out, interrupting the man. A vein on Seteth’s forehead bulged at the words. Pausing for a moment, he let out a heavy sigh as he digested the request. Ingrid speculated that he had been hoping to avoid that discussion, but she was not entirely sure why.

“Ingrid’s bossy!” Bernadetta shouted, not waiting for Seteth’s response. “And mean! And scary! And--”

“Will you knock it off?!” Ingrid barked, leading Bernadetta to cower and whimper. Seteth pinched the bridge of his nose as he raised his hand for Ingrid to stop.

“Ingrid, please. Are you certain you cannot reconsider, Bernadetta?” the man asked. “Rearranging rooming assignments is not a simple task and as it stands, the Church has very little room to spare…”

“I won’t room with her. I’ll die!” Bernadetta wailed.

“I agree.” Ingrid said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I would like to also formally request a new roommate assignment as well. Bernadetta has been nothing but obstinate, unbearable, and selfish since the day I’ve arrived. I see no way this arrangement can improve.”

“H-Hey! That’s mean!” Bernadetta shouted. Clenching her fist, Ingrid wanted to remind the other girl that she was saying the same things about her only moments ago; but held her tongue. She knew that her efforts would be nothing but wasted. Ingrid was of the full belief that the girl was nothing but a spoiled child who refused to listen; she was better off talking to a wall instead.

“Very well. It seems this is unavoidable in the end.” Seteth observed after a pause. “But where to put you? The other rooms can only accommodate two students at a time, and the female dorms have all their rooms currently assigned.”

“Excuse me, Seteth?” a voice spoke up behind the trio. Turning around, Ingrid could see the familiar face of Edelgard, the house leader of the Black Eagles. Ingrid was quite surprised to see the heir of the empire interrupt their conversation so suddenly.

“Ah, Edelgard.” Seteth said, an eyebrow quirked upwards, expecting the house leader to be somewhere else. “I thought you would be attending lectures with your class.”

“I had been, I had forgotten something in my room and ran back to get it. I was on my way to class when I couldn't help but to overhear your conversation. If it is acceptable, I would like to offer to be Bernadetta’s roommate.” Edelgard eloquently replied. Both Ingrid and Bernadetta’s jaw dropped in shock at the request. Ingrid could not believe that the princess wanted  _ her _ as a roommate? The obnoxious crybaby? Surely, it was a joke. It had to be.

“T-Truly?” Seteth stammered. It seemed even he was surprised by the request. “It is awfully generous of you. Are you sure you are willing to give up having a room to yourself? That is one of the privileges of being house leader.”

“There is no need for concern.” Edelgard assured him, a polite smile on her face. “Although having a room to myself was certainly nice in the beginning; I’ve come to believe I am missing out on the social experience the other students get to enjoy.”

“W-why doesn’t Edelgard room with Ingrid instead?” Bernadetta said, laughing nervously. “I’m not really good with people and roommates are scary. Nobody would want to room with me, Ingrid’s much nicer and I think they would even get along bett--”

“No. I am only interested in rooming with Bernadetta. No offense, Ingrid.” Edelgard replied, calmly glancing at the other girl’s direction. Although always formal and respectable, Ingrid could not help but feel like there was off with Edelgard’s demeanor. The girl always seemed  _ too _ calm; no matter the circumstances. But perhaps that was better than the alternative for someone in her position.

“None taken. It’s  _ your _ funeral.” Ingrid replied with a small hmph and a shrug. Ingrid didn’t like the idea of someone like Bernadetta getting picked over her, but in the end it worked out best for her; she got rid of an awful roommate and wouldn’t have to deal with Bernadetta any time soon. Ingrid would get to have a room all to herself.

Not only that, but Ingrid could not help but feel that rooming with a crowned princess would certainly not be the fun social experience said princess desired. She had seen Edelgard’s ‘shadow’ skulking around the hallway to the girl’s dormitory and constantly going in and out of Edelgard’s room all the time. Ingrid was not one to concern herself with people’s relationships or personal business; but the thought of dealing with  _ that _ nearly every day was unsettling.

“What?! Why me?!” Bernadetta cried out, quite upset. A mixture of genuine surprise and frustration was evident on her face. Ingrid wondered if on some level Bernadetta knew she was difficult to deal with.

“Well, as house leader of the Black Eagles, it would make sense for me to deepen the bonds with those within my house, no?” Edelgard explained, rather satisfied with her response. “Besides, I fear that if Bernadetta is given a room all to herself, we may never see her again…”

“You make a good point, Edelgard.” Seteth calmly stated, brushing his chin in thought. Bernadetta bit her lip and meagerly shook her head in protest as she realized what was going to happen next. Ingrid could not help but feel some sense of catharsis from the scene.

“Well, then that settles things. Bernadetta; you wanted a new roommate, and one so happened to appear. It seems like the Goddess has answered your prayer in her own way. You will move all your belongings into Edelgard’s room later this evening where the two of you shall reside. Ingrid will remain in her current room by herself and there will no longer be issues between the two of you.” Seteth said, looking very sternly at both girls. Ingrid nodded her head solemnly, subtly flinching as her hand brushed the new bruise that had formed from the scuffle. Bernadetta couldn’t say anything, her mouth agape; wide enough for flies to swarm in had Edelgard not been so kind as to gently close it for her.

“Now then,” Seteth continued, dusting himself off. “You three must leave for class at once. You all are most certainly late. If your professor makes an issue of it, just inform them that you were speaking with me. I rescind my earlier punishment of helping the knights. They shall deal with things on their own, seeing how late you three are.”

“What? But…I don’t want a roommate…I just want to be left alone. What’s wrong with that? P-Please…” Bernadetta whimpered, her voice as fragile as a leaf in the wind. Although it was hard to tell with her messy hair, her eyes seemed to be watery again; following the red recesses of the tears that had been shed before. Seeing this pitiful display, Ingrid almost felt sorry. Almost.

“Oh come now, Bernadetta. You’ll be fine. It’ll be fun. I promise I don’t bite.” Edelgard teased with a soft chuckle. Slowly stretching her arm around the girl, the crowned princess began to gently pat the girl on the back reassuringly. The introverted girl flinched at the sudden contact, but was beginning to calm down at the sudden act of kindness.

“You’re going to make me go to class all the time, aren’t you?” she asked, knowing the probable answer but dreading it anyway. Across from her, Edelgard was quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond.

“…you’ll be fine, Bernadetta.” The princess answered with an assured smile. Taking the younger girl by the hand, Edelgard gently led her forward as the two began their walk to class.

“Noooooo…” Bernadetta whined. Digging her feet into the ground she tried to resist, but Edelgard was gentle but very firmly persistent. Silently, Ingrid just shook her head and started walking in the opposite direction of the other two.

“In the meantime, I will deal with…this. Perhaps it would have been more prudent to tell them that all the knights had actually gone out on patrol.” Seteth sighed, gazing at the remains of the door and slowly beginning to clean up for the students under his watch.

====

Like the previous day, Byleth arrived at the training grounds earlier than everyone else. Leaning against a column, Byleth watched knights walk out as their next shift began to start. For once, Sothis was just as quiet as he was. The two silently watched the scenery around them; spacing out as his mind wandered aimlessly.

Suddenly, a flash caught Byleth’s eyes from an item being tossed in his direction. Quick to react, Byleth caught the flying object before it had the chance to begin falling. Looking at his catch, he saw a familiar set of keys. They were for the armory and the equipment shed. Looking for the thrower, Byleth caught Jeritza, standing only a few feet in front of him, looking at him with the same stoic expression as always

“I was told that Seteth will not be available to see you today. Something came up.” Jeritza said, his voice flat and giving clear indication the man was nothing more than a simple messenger.

“What was it?” Byleth questioned, genuinely curious. He had not expected to see the man today, and hoped he wouldn’t have to. Yesterday’s events were still fresh in his mind and Byleth didn’t want to risk the possibility of Seteth asking him too many questions.

“I did not ask.” Jeritza replied flatly. While this answer wasn’t much of…anything, actually; he did not press the masked man any further. Byleth assumed that if it was something important and he’d find out later. Giving a curt nod, Byleth watched as Jeritza turned around and began to leave.

“Not gonna stay?” Byleth called out, stopping Jeritza in his tracks. While Byleth was not as anxious as he was yesterday, there was still a lingering feeling of unease at the idea of being left alone with the students. He wondered if he would ever get used to it.

“I have no reason to.” Jeritza answered, not bothering to even turn around to face the new professor.

“That one is as warm as an icicle and about as sociable.” Sothis said, floating down directly at Byleth’s side. Crossing her arms across her chest, Sothis glared at the masked man in disapproval. Byleth mostly found Sothis’ little comments annoying and distracting, but once in a while she’d say something amusing. Not that he would ever tell her. It would likely go to her head and he would never hear the end of it.

“Fair enough. See you, then.” Byleth replied, giving a brief wave of goodbye. Not that it mattered. Jeritza even didn’t bother to look at him before he left.

“His social skills make you look the continent’s smoothest socialite in comparison.” Sothis said, her attention turning back to Byleth once the other man left.

“I like him,” Byleth stated, absentmindedly fiddling with the shed keys in his spare hand.

She wasn’t wrong either. Byleth agreed with her assessment; albeit not literally. The groundskeeper was certainly unfriendly and apathetic; but Byleth would be hypocritical if he held that against him. Jeritza was quiet, straight to the point, did his job, and his presence seemed to deter people; that was all great in his book.

“I suppose you would, given that you are both unsociable recluses. But personally, I find him unsettling. He’s certainly dull in conversation and dreadfully boring as a whole; but there is more to it than that. Something about him feels…menacing.” Sothis confessed, a tad apprehensive. Byleth was a little surprised to see such an expression on the typically smug girl’s face, but then again, she did tend to overreact to every little thing.

“Maybe it’s the mask,” Byleth said, pointing to his own face.

“Hm…I don’t know.” Sothis murmured, unable to determine the problem. “But I do wonder why he wears that thing, though. Rather peculiar choice for fashion.”

“Maybe he wears it cause he’s ugly,” Byleth suggested. He knew there were plenty of other reasons that had a much higher chance of being correct as to why the man wore a mask; but this one was the most amusing to think about. However, it wouldn’t matter too much even if he was ugly. He had other physically attractive features. Most notably, Byleth knew at least five people who would kill to have hair like his. Byleth would be lying if he wasn’t a  _ little _ jealous of it himself.

“If that was the reason the mask should cover his whole face.” Sothis said, mildly annoyed with Byleth’s crude answer. “Either way, it seems he doesn’t seem to have much of an opinion of you.”

“Better than hating me,” Byleth replied, not too concerned over the feelings of the masked man. Many people didn’t like Byleth, and coincidentally; the sentiment was more often than not mutual. Jeritza was one of the few who seemed to not care either way, and Byleth wouldn’t have it any other way. A decent sparring partner and someone who would deter people from annoying him in the dining hall were great qualities.

“I need to set up,” he started with a flinch, suddenly remembering he had a class to run. He had spent far too much time talking with Sothis. Fortunately for him, none of the knights caught him talking to himself like a madman. Most had left for other duties and the students hadn’t arrived yet.

“Ah, yes you do!” Sothis exclaimed, seemingly having forgotten as well. “Let’s see, today you will be training…”

“The Blue Tigers,” Byleth answered, walking towards the equipment shed. Their house leader was Dimitri, formerly dubbed ‘Blue’ when Byleth had met him. He was a prince; very formal and serious, but polite. He always looked rather sweaty.

“No, Byleth, they are called the Blue  _ Lions _ . You need to pay attention.” Sothis lectured him, floating behind him.

“Close enough.” Byleth replied, shrugging his shoulders. Exasperated with the young man, Sothis just shook her head in frustration.

Approaching the door to the equipment shed, Byleth sifted through the keys. Grabbing and inserting the right one, he promptly unlocked the door with a satisfying click. Heading towards the back, he grabbed himself a copy of the Blue Lions student roster, a wooden board to write on, and a quill and bottle of ink to do so.

“You know, the mascot choices for the school houses seem rather odd.” Byleth absentmindedly said to the girl floating behind him. “You can’t take a shit without running into a deer in Alliance territory, let alone all of Fodlan; so that makes sense to have them represent the Alliance. Eagles can be found in the mountains of the Empire; that makes sense too. But lions? What is a lion doing in Faerghus?  _ Who let one in _ ?”

“They were chosen because they are significant to the history and culture of each nation,” a voice said behind him, far more than he was comfortable with in a small room. Byleth jumped a little at the scare, only a subtle flinch betraying his surprise. Quickly turning around, Byleth could see the familiar face of one of the Blue Lion students. White hair, brown skin, widely built and incredibly tall; Byleth struggled to recall his name. Didi? Diddles? Dewie? What was it again?

“I believe that one is named Dedue. What a peculiar name. I wonder where he is from?” Sothis pondered aloud, thinking to herself. Byleth mentally prayed to himself that the girl wasn’t developing mind-reading abilities; he’d be in big trouble if she did.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” Byleth said, slightly rattled that someone caught him off guard. Had they stayed silent for any longer he would have realized Byleth was talking to “himself.” In many ways, Byleth was impressed that Dedue managed to sneak up on him. The guy was huge. How could Byleth not have heard him coming?

“Apologies, that was not my intention.” Dedue replied, his calm face unwavering. A brief moment of silence sat between the two, causing Byleth to decide to pursue the conversation further.

“So, what do they represent then?” The young professor questioned, not really caring too much about the answer; but it was better than the two of them just awkwardly staring at each other.

“The lion is in honor of the founding king of Faerghus, King Loog. He was known as the ‘King of Lions’ and was famous for wearing blue.” Dedue said with a proud glint in his eye. Byleth did not recognize the name ‘Loog,’ but he did recall Faerghus making a big deal about their first king.

“The golden deer,” Dedue continued. “Are legendary creatures that are said to be protectors of the Alliance region. There are tales of them vanquishing threats, guiding lost souls, or appearing in dreams.”

“Oh, yes! I have heard that before, or rather,  _ we _ have heard a story like that before.” Sothis stated, looking rather excited. “Remember the story your friend Jake told you about how he came to get hired by your father? He claimed to have seen one once and managed to avoid an untimely demise because of it.”

Byleth had forgotten about it, but now he did remember. Jake had originally worked in a small militia for a village on the edge of Sheridale Forest. 

The hunters were going to go deep into the forest on a hunting expedition and wanted extra protection in case they ran into demonic beasts. Jake had been hired to go with them, and during the trip, the group was split in two by the undergrowth. Before their group could pass through a particularly thick bush, a stag with shimmering gold fur halted the group. A demonic roar sounded off from a distance behind the brush, causing the entire group to tense and prepare for battle. Another beast roared somewhere to their left, and when they looked back to the stag, it was gone. Passing through the brush, Jake and the group found the devastated remains of the other group. After they escaped the forest, Jake had a realization. Had the stag not stopped them, Jake would have just been another casualty, along with the other half of the hunters group.

Although relieved he was not one of the dead, the whole experience motivated him to go back home to the city of Derdriu; where he stumbled upon Jeralt and was hired soon after. Byleth had always presumed that Jake’s story was bullshit, but it was interesting to hear that it wasn’t just something Jake pulled entirely out of his ass.

“The twin-headed eagle is said to represent Saint Seiros and Emperor Wilhelm I in their joint union against Nemesis as well as their founding of the empire. However, the image of a two-headed flying bird is also found in an ancient ruin that predates the founding of the Church of Seiros or the Empire.” Dedue explained, in such detail that Byleth wasn’t sure he needed.

“Why Black Eagles?” Byleth asked, feeling curious. Since they were discussing it, he might as well ask.

“The Adrestian military uniform has historically been black,” Dedue curtly replied. Byleth was surprised by the simplicity of the reason, but it wasn’t too surprising. After all, he could relate; he was quite the fan of black when it came to clothes as well.

“I see. Thank you.” Byleth answered. The conversation ended up more entertaining than Byleth had expected it to be. Rather pointless knowledge to have, but it was interesting nonetheless. At least there weren’t any lions in Faerghus.

“You’re welcome,” Dedue dutifully replied. Gazes locked between the two, they were once again back at having an awkward silence between them. Byleth tried waiting for Dedue to say something else; but the student was silent as stone.

“Byleth if you do not say something, I fear the two of you will be stuck like this for years. Say something.” Sothis urged him, a tone of concern evident in her voice.

“So…what do you need?” Byleth asked, unsure what the student wanted in the first place. If he was just waiting for class he could’ve done it outside; as interesting as their conversation was, it was still a distraction for Byleth. He had still had prep work to do.

“I have come to ask if you need assistance in setting for today’s training lesson.” Dedue answered.

“Oh…yeah, I do. Thanks. Go set up one training dummy for each student in your class.” Byleth said, surprised by the gesture. Some of the kids from the Black Eagles group yesterday were eager to help as well, but Byleth was still surprised they offered. He didn’t think he would do that if he was in their shoes.

Dedue nodded and proceeded to grab two of the dummies Byleth had pointed to. With his size and strength, he was able to lift them up with relative ease. Turning to the student roster in his hands, Byleth wrote ‘Chatty Cathy’ next to Dedue’s name.

Convinced Dedue could easily handle the task, Byleth headed out of the equipment shed and towards the armory; unlocking the door and stepping inside. Placing his board and ink quill to the side, he could see two more familiar faces at the doorway.

“They are Mercedes and Annette,” Sothis reminded him, pointing at the vanilla-haired one first.

“Good afternoon, Professor! Annie and I were wondering if you needed help with setting up. We’d love to help,” Mercedes said. She looked older than most of the other students, but the age difference between her and the other girl, Annette, was quite apparent most especially. The girl seemed nice enough, but nothing stood out much about her. Well, other than her hair was a really nice shade of blonde. Turning to the roster, he wrote Vanilla’ next to her name.

“Sure, but we are not training with magic.” Byleth said, not about to turn away another offer for help.

“Aw, how come?” Annette asked. She was small, young, and stuck out with her bright orange hair styled into loops. With the girl looking visibly disappointed, Byleth couldn’t help but suddenly feel bad.

“I have to learn some things about it first. But eventually you guys will. Probably. No promises, though.” Byleth answered, still not ready to commit to the idea of teaching magic, or at the very least, he didn’t want to get hopes up. He scribbled ‘mage’ next to their names.

“Oh, well that’s okay.” Annette frowned, concealing her disappointment well. “You know, I’ve always wanted to learn how to wield an axe. It just looks so--ah!”

Leaning forward, Annette tried to pick up the biggest, heaviest axe in the armory. She had managed to succeed for a brief moment, but the weight proved too much for her. Losing her balance, she tipped over forward and proceeded to fall into one of the weapons racks. The fallen weapons resounded with an ear-piercing screech as they clashed against each other as they fell from the rack.

“Oh, dear!” Sothis gasped, shocked by the turn of events. She wasn’t the only one.

“Annie, are you okay?!” Mercedes cried out. Both she and Byleth quickly ran towards the girl to aid her. Byleth quickly moved the stray weapons out of the way, and examined the girl. He was worried she may have gotten injured in the chaos, but inwardly sighed in relief when he saw no visible injuries.

“Ow…yeah I’m okay.” Annette groaned, rubbing her elbow. She’d probably have a bad bruise, but Byleth surmised she’d be fine. Mercedes looked relieved that she was fine as well. Annette gazed at the area around her and was horrified.

“Oh my gosh!” she cried out. “Look, the weapons are everywhere! I’m soooo sorry, Professor. Here let me help clean up--”

_ “ No _ _!”_ Byleth exclaimed, a little too forcefully. “No, it’s okay. I’ve got it. You don’t need to worry about helping me set up, either. Just wait outside with the others for class to start.”

Both girls complied and proceeded to head out. Annette let out a string of apologies, but Byleth assured her that it was alright. The cleanup would be a pain, but at least the girl wasn’t hurt. Turning to the roster once more, Byleth wrote the word ‘Klutz’ next to Annette’s name and in big letters wrote an additional note of ‘Small arms ONLY.’

====

“You did WHAT?”

Outside in the middle of the training grounds, the prince and his three childhood friends stood as they conversed; waiting for the class to begin. Ingrid had missed breakfast, something most out of character for her to do, and the boys had inquired what happened. Needless to say, they were most certainly surprised by the answer.

“I...kicked in the door.” Ingrid mumbled, looking a little tired, but mostly embarrassed.

“I think ‘kicked in’ is being generous. Some of the first-years said that there wasn’t even a door left after you were done with it.” Sylvain commented, almost in awe of the girl’s strength and tenacity.

“It was an accident!” Ingrid assured him, whispering harshly as to avoid others from overhearing their conversation.

“Ingrid, no matter how you spin it, it’s not something you do ‘accidentally.’” Sylvain argued, staring at the girl in disbelief.

“It is actually much easier to do than you think,” Dimitri argued, recalling the many times he had accidentally ripped off doorknobs or doors entirely. It would happen a lot when he wasn’t paying attention and proved to be quite the hassle.

“With all due respect to Your Highness, I think you are a completely different case.” Sylvain replied comedically, eliciting a small smirk from Ingrid who got the joke. 

“He’s an  _ animal _ , of course he doesn’t count.” Felix spat, crossing his arms defiantly. The raven haired student had been silent up until then, and with a single phrase, he immediately silenced his comrades. Dimitri bristled at the verbal punch to the face, but said nothing, doing his best to ignore Felix as he usually did when his childhood friend talked that way.

“Well, at least we know the source of that monstrous growling during the lecture. Your door kicking must have forced you to miss breakfast! I thought the knights were fighting a demonic beast in the next room.” Sylvain chuckled, steering the conversation in a different direction, at Ingrid’s expense. 

The starved growls of Ingrid’s stomach distracted the class until Felix got fed up and threw his hidden stash of jerky at the girl so he could concentrate on the professor’s theories on new blade forms. Dimitri supposed that the raven-haired student was cranky that not only could he not focus on a lecture that interested him, but now his physical performance was curtailed by the lack of the boost he had expected from the jerky he fed Ingrid.

“S-Shut up!” Ingrid stammered, her face flushed with embarrassment at the reminder. Sylvain just laughed, while Felix just smiled softly. Dimitri smiled as well, but his face quickly faltered once he remembered what Ingrid had done previously.

“What about the girl whose door you broke down? You could have gotten in a lot of trouble if she was harmed.” Dimitri said, looking quite serious about the topic. He knew that Ingrid could have easily hurt her frail roommate more than she had wanted to. He and the other two knew exactly what Ingrid was like and capable of when she got angry.

“For once, the boar says something denoting intelligence.” Felix jeered, motioning towards the prince. “You are lucky that Seteth was in a good mood and only gave you a slap on the wrist.”

“Yeah, that guy is a hard ass. He’s given me detention twice this year and it’s barely been a month. I swear he must have it out for me or something.” Sylvain griped, looking irritated at the thought.

“You were out past curfew hours, intoxicated, and making loud noises in the middle of the night; waking up nearly half of the monastery. You even vomited on the man’s shoes!” Dimitri reminded him, his voice rising with agitation. Sylvain’s antics were bad enough, but for him to put the blame on someone else and act like he did nothing wrong agitated the young prince.

But to the prince’s frustration, Sylvain just laughed in response. Ingrid smacked him upside the head with the combined force of her sense of discipline and embarrassment at his hand; bowling the redhead over onto the floor. Dimitri and Felix just glared at him; something that Sylvain did not miss from his position on the ground.

“Okay, but that was just that one time.” Sylvain argued, shrugging as he stood up, rubbing the back of his neck carefully. “I partied a little too hard in town that night; it happens. Live and learn, ya know? Besides, I practically did him a favor; those shoes were tacky. The second time was totally unfair.”

“You were caught with a girl!” Dimitri said, angry at the other boy. Dimitri was under the fervent belief that Sylvain could not feel embarrassment. He did so many things that the second hand embarrassment alone mortified the prince. He was not sure how Sylvain could go around as if nothing was wrong

“Ugh, yeah. What a total cockblock.” Sylvain sighed, entirely missing the point. “I don’t care if it’s against the rules; we were both consenting adults and he interrupted something that was private.”

“It was not ‘private,’ Sylvain. The two of you were caught in public near the Goddess Tower; right next to the cathedral!” Dimitri corrected him, too angry to be embarrassed to say such things.

“Disgusting.” Felix spat, glaring in disapproval towards the redhead’s direction. Truly, the boy went from disdain to smiles at a speed incomprehensible to all but the sharpest of eyes.

“Listen, girls love doing it by the Goddess Tower. The legend surrounding it makes them go nuts. Best part is that it’s right next to the cliffs, so they tend to get a little scared and cling to you real nice. Fantastic for setting the mood.” Sylvain said, grinning like a fool, the “genius” of his plans revealed to all, much to their disgust.

Dimitri began to question how he ever managed to become friends with such a blatant philanderer in the first place. But he sighed as he remembered the answer to that. Despite Sylvain’s faults, he was a good friend and a good person when it came down to it. Dimitri just wished he could get his act together; they all did.

“Wait, wait. ‘Girls?’ As in  _ multiple girls _ ? Sylvain, how many times have you done this?!” Ingrid questioned, grinding her teeth and furrowing her brows. 

“Ingrid, do you count how many times you’ve eaten bread? Questions like that shouldn’t be asked.” Sylvain countered, feigning hurt as if he cared that the question concerned personal affairs.

“Sylvain, this is a church; holy ground. You managed to desecrate not only one, but two sacred places at once! How do you even manage a feat like that?” Ingrid accused, incredulous at the redheaded scoundrel’s gall.

Dimitri winced as he felt the sting of those words; and he wasn’t even the intended target. Ingrid was starting to get really angry. The prince knew the face she made when she was ready to get physical. In efforts to avoid another fight, the prince was about to intervene and try to steer the conversation in a different direction, but the fourth member of the group spoke up.

“So you’re manipulating girls now? How do you even live with yourself?” Felix questioned, both furious and baffled at the same time by the sheer audacity of the other boy.

“Not so. If they’re into it; we have fun. If not; we go home. Heck, sometimes nothing happens, and that’s perfectly fine. They can think for themselves and make their own choices. It’s a mutual transaction that everyone gets something out of; I’m not manipulating anyone.” Sylvain replied, defending himself.

“And considering that I’ve only been rejected twice, I don’t believe that my skills leave anything to be desired.” Sylvain bragged, smiling once more. Times such as this, the prince was very tempted to smack his friend; Sylvain could definitely take it, considering how dense he was.

“Idiot, you don’t get it. Purposefully trying to get girls in a mood specifically just to increase your odds at having sex with them is always going to be messed up. You don’t even plan to stick with the ones you get with. You purposefully lead them on and never commit. You don’t care about their feelings. You care about nothing but getting your dick hard. You’re an insatiable prick.” Felix sneered, shooting nasty glares at the redhead.

Sylvain looked taken aback, and frankly, very confused. They were all familiar with Felix’s sharp tongue, but this was…different. It seemed unusually personal, even for Felix. He truly did have a gift of saying things that could hit where it hurt the most. Dimitri could see Sylvain’s strained swallow as he tried to recover from Felix’s harsh words. 

For the past couple weeks, it had been the prince who would mostly be at the end of the boy’s verbal abuse. Dimitri would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt, but he was starting to grow used to it. They hadn’t seen each other in over two years and much had changed.

Glancing towards Ingrid, the prince was surprised to see the blonde girl look so composed, even approving of Felix’s reprimand. Unlike Sylvain or Dimitri; she didn’t seem shocked by what Felix had said. But as the girl turned to her dark haired friend, Dimitri could see a peculiar flash of sympathy in her gaze. The prince began to suspect that she knew something the other two didn’t. He would have to ask her about it later.

“Fuu…That’s harsh. My bad, alright?” Sylvain said, admitting defeat. He managed to shrug off Felix’s words, his current expression being mildly dejected, the only trace that he took his friend’s words to heart. “Look, my point is that the guy is crazy strict and holds grudges like some evil dragon. I swear, every time I look over my shoulder he’s there glaring at me. I know he just hates me.”

“Sylvain, no one here will deny Seteth is stern and strict.” Dimitri said, interjecting himself back into the conversation. “But while I have no authority on his opinion of you; you cannot deny that any grievance he has towards you is warranted. You are reaping what you sowed and cannot blame anyone but yourself.”

“Remember last year?” Ingrid said with an exasperated huff. Dimitri had not enrolled at the Officer’s Academy until this year, but Sylvain and Ingrid were present the year before. While Dimitri had not witnessed Sylvain’s antics first hand, he received many letters from Ingrid going in great detail of some of Sylvain’s exploits. Needless to say, it was not good.

“Do I even want to know?” Felix asked, glaring at the two.

“Yeah, you really don’t.” Sylvain replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Damn it Sylvain.” Felix wearily muttered. He did not seem nearly as angry as before, simply worn out from a tedious conversation he would no doubt have with his laidback friend again in the future. Dimitri understood and sympathized. 

“Regardless, he’s not someone you want to get on the bad side of. Okay, Ingrid?” Sylvain continued, gesturing towards the girl. “Your record has been spotless up until now, but now that this happened he’s gonna remember you. Not to mention having me for a friend isn’t going to do you any favors. Sorry about that. Just lay low or kiss his ass for a while. Whatever works.”

“He is right, despite his vulgar choice of words.” Dimitri replied, looking annoyed at Sylvain once more. “Ingrid, you have to watch your temper. You should apologize to both Bernadetta and Seteth.”

“That’s a stupid idea,” Felix hissed, shaking his head in disapproval. “Ingrid, you need to cool off or you’ll just end up fighting again.”

“Yeah, I am not apologizing to her. Not a chance.” Ingrid replied defiantly, puffing her cheek. Furrowing her brow, it was clear as day that the girl was still angry.

“My point exactly,” Felix said, sighing to himself.

“On the bright side, it all worked out in the end, right?” Sylvain said with an opportunistic glint in his eye. “Heck, I’d say you even got an upgrade, Ingrid. You get a whole room to yourself. You and Dimitri get to live the high life while the rest of us peasants have to deal with each other. If you ever feel lonely, I am more than willing to trade rooms with you. I could definitely use a change of pace. Felix is a great roommate; if you ignore the snores, of course.”

“Not a chance. First of all, I am a girl and Felix is a guy. Friend or not, you know a girl and a guy can’t sleep in the same room as each other.” Ingrid answered, shaking her head adamantly.

“Second,” she continued, glaring at him. “I know  _ exactly _ what you would be doing if you had a room to yourself and I will  _ not _ enable that.”

“I don’t snore, idiot!” Felix angrily protested. “And if dealing with me as a roommate is so bad that you got to complain about it; go ahead and ask for a switch. If you ask nicely, I’m sure the boar won’t mind sharing the ‘high life’ with you.  _ Asshole _ .”

Sneering at the other two boys, Felix stormed off; walking towards the other end of the training grounds. If Dimitri had to speculate, he would guess that Felix left to go sulk in a corner somewhere. Sylvain had frozen in shock once again at Felix’s response. It took a couple of seconds for him to register what had happened before the redhead bolted off towards the other boy.

“Wait, Felix don’t go--!” He called out, shouting after the boy. “Come on! You know I didn’t mean it like that! I was just kidding! Don’t be mad, okay? Hey Felix, come back!”

Ingrid just sighed heavily at Sylvain running off. Dimitri imagined that if things kept up like this, she would go after them and drag them back. Although she frequently complained about it, Ingrid always got the boys out of trouble and would lecture them afterwards. Nothing had changed between the four of them in many ways. Some things were vastly different, but many things remained the same.

“This is nice,” Dimitri said wistfully, watching them go. Hearing this, Ingrid turned with a look of abject shock.

“What, Sylvain’s antics? Please, Dimitri don’t tell me you--” She started to say, clearly not prepared for more than one Sylvain.

“Of course not.” Dimitri protested, mildly offended that Ingrid would even suggest such a thing. “I merely meant that it’s nice to be back together like this; all of us.”

Ever since the tragedy, the four of them had not been able to get together at once. The prince had missed his friends dearly and was happy to hear that they’d all be at the Officer’s Academy together. Things had not been perfect so far, but it was still a promising year they would have together.

“No. Not all of us…” Ingrid murmured, eyes downcast as the professor began to gather the Blue Lions to begin class. As she silently walked away from the prince; Dimitri held out a hand to stop her before his voice died in his throat. Dimitri knew what, or rather who, she was referring to, and could not blame her for her reaction. A familiar weight began to settle in Dimitri’s heart once more and the voices began to whisper despair into the young prince’s ear as he marched onwards to class.

====

Aside from the preparation incident earlier, the training class started off relatively well with no issue. All students complied with the instruction to run laps and they promptly started on drills on the training dummies afterwards. Watching the students work at it, Byleth wrote down many notes to himself on all of their performances. However, he had to stop when he saw the performance of a certain student.

“Dimitri, what are you doing?” Byleth asked, squinting at the blond prince. Just a few feet away, the heir to Faerghus was striking away at the mannequin, although Byleth was hesitant to call it ‘striking.’ Holding his lance in an awkward manner and his stance tilted, as if he was compensating for a large pack; the prince looked like he was juggling between fighting constipation and walking on a tightrope at the same time. His thrusts were weak and shallow with how light the grip on his lance was, and he constantly swiped at the air close to his head as if a fly was buzzing around. The boy was sweating up a storm; but it did not seem like it was from his training.

“I am training, Professor…?” Dimitri answered, looking a little uncertain at the new professor’s scrutiny as he pointed the lance at the ground and gave a curt bow, drops of sweat glistening in his bangs.

“Yeah, no shit. But  _ what _ are you doing?” Byleth questioned, pointing towards the weapon in the boy’s hand. “I’ve seen you fight seriously and you can do way more than that. Put your back into it. Don’t half-ass it.”

“Uh, Professor, are you sure?” Dimitri questioned nervously. A strange look of unease was etched on his face, and Byleth couldn’t make heads or tails of it. He had seen the kid go at it like a natural in real combat; why was he getting cold feet now?

“Wait, Professor, I don’t think that is a good idea, you see--” Sylvain said, quickly trying to interrupt Dimitri and Byleth.

“Yes, full strength, now.” Byleth ordered, ignoring the protests of the other student. “You won’t improve otherwise.”

“If you insist, Professor. But please prepare for what happens.” Dimitri said, concerned yet resolved to follow orders. Byleth could only roll his eyes at how overdramatic the boy was.

Or so he thought.

Assuming a proper battle stance, Dimitri corrected his grip on the lance, his gaze steady upon the training dummy before him. With one decisive horizontal slash, Byleth watched as the prince leapt forward, decapitating the head of the training dummy and sending it flying. Byleth had to duck to avoid the spearhead that had snapped from the force of the impact, the projectile safely blocked by Dedue somewhere behind the professor. Felix had caught the dummy’s head on the tip of his blade, not allowing a boar’s blunder to ruin his focus.

Hearing a loud crunch, Byleth watched as the remains of the lance in Dimitri’s hand splintered, the prince’s iron grip rendering the entire weapon unusable. Now Byleth understood what the ‘issue’ was.

“Oh, my.” Sothis said, rather impressed with the display; if not slightly concerned.

“Alright, go get another training dummy and lance.” Byleth replied, sighing a little to himself. “And Dimitri?”

“Yes, Professor?” Dimitri curtly replied, a little anxious now that he had calmed down and realized what he had done.

“You know the strength you need to not do all…that. Just make sure you’re still getting some practice in while I find something that can handle some more punishment.” Byleth said, gesturing towards the remains of the training dummy and the ruined lance.

“O-Of course, Professor.” Dimitri awkwardly replied, bowing curtly before running off to get a new set of supplies. Byleth took the opportunity to write some notes to himself to figure out a solution to the prince’s problem; but was suddenly interrupted by another voice speaking up.

“Hey, you.” Felix called out, approaching the new professor. Byleth had gotten so used to all the students and faculty calling him professor that he was caught off guard by the boy’s rude tone. 

“Oh! Look, Byleth. Here is someone who is almost as courteous and graceful as you are.” Sothis sarcastically remarked, smirking at her own joke.

“What?” Byleth replied, ignoring the floating girl.

“This is all a waste of time. I could do this in my sleep.” Felix said, gesturing towards the training dummies. “If I’m going to get stronger, I need a living, moving foe. In a real fight, an opponent isn’t just going to stand there and take it.”

“It’s just for this week,” Byleth nonchalantly replied. The boy wasn’t wrong, of course. But Byleth was already set on the advice Seteth had given him and didn’t want to add any new elements to the mix, especially ones that might send the students to the infirmary. The kid would just have to suck it up.

“I don’t care. I want you to spar with me. I want to test my strength against the so-called ‘Ashen Demon.’” Felix said, pointing his blade towards Byleth. There was an aura of over eagerness that Byleth could feel was all too familiar. Way too familiar.

“The answer is no,” Byleth replied, not budging on the issue. He wasn’t going to deal with this shit, not today.

But the boy didn’t back down. Sword ever steady and pointed forward; Byleth could hear a few outcries towards Felix from his fellow students to back off. But he didn’t listen. The boy lunged forward and slashed wide with his blade. Byleth easily dodged back from the first strike, as it was purposefully slow. The next strike came a little faster, but Byleth was still able to dodge it relatively easily.

Smirking, Felix upped his tempo, coming at a speed that caught Byleth off guard. With no time to dodge, Byleth clasped the flat of Felix’s blade with his writing hand and the board. Felix had not expected this, and that split second pause gave enough time for Byleth to lift his leg and give a swift, powerful kick to Felix’s stomach; sending the boy backwards.

The boy hit the ground with a heavy thud, the wind knocked out of him. Wasting no time, Byleth walked over to where the boy laid and put his foot on the blade, locking it out of the student’s grasp. Standing above him, Byleth leaned over and glared at the boy.

“Pull that stunt again and your ass is grass. Got it?” Byleth warned him, flicking him on the forehead. Felix winced at the brief, dull pain.

“Tch.” Felix said as he clicked his tongue. Lying on the ground, he didn’t dare look at his professor. Ego bruised from getting his ass handed to him, Felix didn’t say anything nor did he try to continue the fight. Byleth surmised that he wouldn’t be trying any more tricks for now.

“Five laps, go.” Byleth ordered, pointing towards the track. Silently, the boy picked himself up and complied with the order with no protest.

“Are you sure that’s enough punishment, Byleth? He did charge at you while you were unprepared. That is not something to take lightly!” Sothis said, watching the student walk away.

“It’s fine. He just wanted to provoke me to get what he wanted. For now, just knocking him down a peg or two will suffice.” Byleth whispered, low enough so that none of the students could hear him. Scribbling the words ‘Little Shit’ next to Felix’s name on the roster, Byleth turned back around and resumed his attention to the rest of the students.

====

The rest of the training class went by with little to no problems or interruptions. The students synergized well with one another and many of them trained like how Byleth had seen Faerghus soldiers fought. It was generally a well-balanced group; the only areas of improvement Byleth could see was that some students may need to branch out a bit more.

With the chiming of the monastery’s bell, the class was over. Byleth gave brief, curt partings to the students as they said goodbye and left the training grounds. Eager to get going himself, Byleth began putting away all of the equipment, when a familiar face approached him.

“Excuse me, Professor; do you have a moment to chat?” Dimitri asked, giving a polite bow.

“Yeah, just do it as I finish putting this stuff away.” Byleth replied, and the Faerghus prince nodded as he followed the man.

“I just wanted to apologize on behalf of Felix today. I simply cannot understand what on earth possessed him to attack you like he did. He’s always been reckless and eager to fight, but today he simply took it too far.” Dimitri explained, concerned that his classmate might have hurt a new professor, so soon after they had lost their last one.

“It’s fine,” Byleth said, unconcerned. Lifting a large training dummy, he began to carry it towards the equipment shed as Dimitri followed, taking a dummy himself with his abnormal strength.

“Is it, Professor?” Dimitri asked, had a hard time believing his teacher’s words.

“Yeah. He’s at that stage where you’re eager to prove yourself. Don’t worry about it. It happens sometimes and nobody got hurt. Besides, it’s not your problem. It’s not like you can control him” Byleth answered, dismissing the issue. Placing the training dummy in the correct spot, Byleth left the shed and went to work on clearing out some weapons.

“I feel that as his classmate and house leader, it is partially my responsibility,” Dimitri confessed, a few feet behind his professor. Watching enough of Byleth cleaning up by himself, Dimitri carefully picked up a few weapons himself in attempts to aid his teacher with the workload. He noticed the severed spearhead from earlier and slid it into his pocket, planning on taking it to a blacksmith or merchant to repair the lance.

“Nah,” Byleth simply replied, placing a handful of axes and swords back on the weapons rack.

“Well, there is also the issue of my own behavior.” Dimitri continued, watching Byleth buzz about. “Professor, I want to apologize if I said anything that may have crossed lines. While I was certainly disappointed by Monday’s lecture, you are still my teacher and I have shown you disrespect.”

“You were fine. It’s not like anything you said was wrong.” Byleth assured the boy. Picking up two lances, he handed both of them to the prince, who took them without protest. Walking a few steps ahead, Byleth picked up two large bows and two quivers of arrows; taking them straight to the armory.

“So, I take it you are taking your position more seriously, then? Will Friday’s lecture be more successful?” Dimitri inquired, looking more hopeful. Carefully, the prince placed both lances back on the weapons rack; relieved that he managed to not break or knock over any other weapons by mistake.

“Maybe. Hopefully. We’ll see.” Byleth replied, placing away the bows and arrows. He didn’t stop to take a break, and continued his efforts on cleaning up; zipping in and out of the armory.

“I must confess, your words do not inspire much confidence, Professor.” Dimitri replied, perturbed by Byleth’s half-hearted answer.

“I’m taking it day by day,” Byleth explained, picking up more weapons to take back.

“Fair enough,” Dimitri sighed, having accepted his professor’s answer at face value.

For the next couple of minutes, there was silence between the two. Eager to be done and get to the dining hall for dinner, Byleth was hard at work cleaning. Dimitri was deep in thought as he aided the professor in the endeavor, albeit at a much slower pace. They were nearly done when the crowned prince of Faerghus spoke up once more.

“Oh, I heard from Annette and Mercedes that you are interested in learning magic, Professor. Is this true?” Dimitri formally inquired, a tone of surprise in his voice.

“Maybe,” Byleth vaguely replied. He wasn’t too happy to hear that word got around so fast among the students, especially on a matter he wasn’t sure he wanted to commit to.

“Well, if you are interested in learning, I recommend coming to the lecture hall tonight.” Dimitri said with a mild sense of enthusiasm. “There will be a review lecture on magic for beginners. I will be there, as well as a few others from all houses. I do not do well in the class, but perhaps you will fare better. Either way, you should come. In fact, you could come with us, the Blue Lions. We’d love to have you.”

“I’ll think about it,” Byleth said, giving a non-committal answer to the prince. It sounded like it could be a headache, but maybe he’d do it. Maybe.

“Good. Oh, and one last thing; I am awfully sorry about the equipment I broke earlier. I should’ve warned you properly. I hope it won’t be too much of an issue.” Dimitri replied, reminding Byleth of the incident.

“It shouldn’t be a problem. It’s pretty much the whole point of the class, right? As far as the weapons go; well, weapons break. Call it a ‘casualty of war’ if you want.” Byleth said. While it was true that weapons did break, they weren’t supposed to break that often. He was not sure where the prince got his crazy strength from, but he would have to find something that could withstand his blows.

“I’m afraid the real casualties of war are far more gruesome,” Dimitri ominously said, his eyes blank for a moment. “But you still have a point. Anyway, I should take my leave for now. Goodbye, Professor.”

Giving a curt, formal bow; the Faerghus prince was off. Likely to the dining hall for dinner; where Byleth was supposed to be right now. The new professor gave a brief wave goodbye to the boy and resumed what he was doing. Carrying the head and body in both of his hands; Byleth made his way to the equipment shed.

“He’s such a nice, polite young man.” Sothis observed, floating down into view. The girl had been quiet ever since class had finished; not really able to help in Byleth’s cleanup endeavors or wanted to distract the young man from his conversation with the prince. But now the boy was gone, the two were free to converse.

“He’s nice, but talks too much. He’s way too serious about everything.” Byleth said, looking around to make sure nobody else was around. Fortunately, the coast was clear for now.

“You just talk too little and are not serious enough.” Sothis argued, glaring at the young man. “You would do well to learn from him in that regard. Some manners, social etiquette, and common decency would do you quite well.”

“But you would miss out on my radiant charm.” Byleth countered, a smirk forming on his lips.

“Now there is a good joke.” Sothis said, looking faintly amused. “By the way, you need to go to that review lecture. Almost a quarter of your students are magic users. You would be doing them a disservice if you didn’t at least try to learn the bare minimum so they can practice during your class.”

“Hm…” Byleth grumbled, stopping as he flashed an ugly, almost pitiful look at the floating girl. He could not deny there was truth to what she said, but did he  _ really _ have to go?

“At least  _ try _ it,” Sothis insisted, irritated at his reluctance. “The worst thing that could happen is that you waste an hour or two. It will not kill you. But who knows, maybe you’d actually learn something! Now wouldn’t that be exciting?”

“Fine,” Byleth relented, after a few moments of silence. “But dinner first.”

“Excellent! Oh, this is a delight!” Sothis exclaimed, excited by the news. Byleth couldn’t tell if she was more excited about the magic lecture itself, or simply his agreement to go and try something new. Perhaps it was both.

“But first, there is the matter of the broken equipment.” The floating girl said, looking quite serious. “I do not recall anyone mentioning the standard procedure to dealing with it. What is your plan? I for one suggest that you--Byleth, what are you doing?”

Now inside the equipment shed, Byleth had brought the body of the training dummy back in its original place amongst the others. Slowly and carefully, he placed the decapitated head back where it was severed. Once it managed to keep its balance and remained in place; Byleth slowly backed away towards the door.

“Nothing,” he said, grabbing the handle of the door and gently closing it. Taking out the keys in his pockets, he locked the equipment shed.

“That remains to be seen. But why are you putting the broken equipment with the rest? It’s  _ broken _ . You need to properly dispose of it or find someone who can.” Sothis replied, growing quite angry with her mortal companion.

“I don’t want to get an earful about it breaking. And plus, the body of the dummy still works, no?” Byleth casually explained, not fazed by the girl’s anger. He could easily see Seteth give him a hard time about it.

“But you just told that boy there was no problem with it breaking,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, there is no problem. It’s going to be someone else’s problem.” Byleth explained, sweeping the splinters into a corner. He remembered that he had left the spearhead somewhere, but it must have been cleaned up earlier. Satisfied with the ‘solution’ to his problem; Byleth promptly left the armory and locked it.

“That is the most childis--Byleth, someone is going to find it and figure out it was you who left it behind!” Sothis exclaimed, her face starting to flush with anger.

“How? A lot of people use the equipment shed and armory; knights, faculty and even some of the students that Jeritza babysits. Nobody can prove it was me. My plan is foolproof.” Byleth calmly answered, having thought through his plan. With his business done, he headed for the training grounds’ exit.

“More like fool _ ish _ .” Sothis hissed, crossing her arms. “Oh, what happened to the awkward but sweet Byleth I used to know?”

“Never met him,” Byleth retorted, his mind racing as to what he would have for dinner.

====

Ingrid let out a heavy sigh as she entered the hallway to the girls’ dormitories. Having just chewed out her childhood friend Felix for charging at their unarmed teacher, Ingrid could feel a headache coming on and her stomach begin to growl. Working out and getting angry had made her hungry, and she was eager to soothe the rumbling beast. But before she could enter the dining hall, a knight had approached her informing her that Seteth had wanted to see her by the student dormitories. She had an inkling as to where he was exactly, and as she was quickly proven right as she saw the man standing before the doorway to her room. Hammer in hand; Seteth was hard at work nailing a heavy, blue curtain in the doorway.

“Seteth, have you been here this whole time?” Ingrid inquired from across the hall, hoping her suspicions were off. She would feel extra guilty if he had been there since early this morning.

“What? Oh, no. I just finally got the supplies to remedy this door for the time being.” Seteth assured her, gesturing towards the curtain in front of him and the box of nails on his side.

“Do you need any help?” Ingrid asked, hoping to aid the man in some way.

“If you could hold the nails, I’d greatly appreciate it.” Seteth said, handing her the item in question. Complying with the request, Ingrid stood silently as Seteth was hard at work. Eventually, she spoke up.

“I wanted to apologize to you, for all of this.” She said, gesturing towards the door. “I lost control of myself today, damaged monastery property, and greatly inconvenienced you.”

Heeding Sylvain’s advice, Ingrid thought it was the best and ideal time to apologize to the man. She could not afford it if he harbored grudges and ideally it would be best to smooth things over as soon as possible. Ingrid genuinely did feel bad for what she did; although she was mostly just embarrassed.

“Well, I accept your apology and appreciate your willingness to help, Ingrid.” Seteth said, taking a nail from the box. “But the person you should be apologizing to is not me, but Bernadetta.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to refrain for the time being, sir.” Ingrid darkly muttered, shifting an angry glare to the side. Seteth smiled.

“I just can’t help it.” Ingrid continued, taking the opportunity to vent. “I can’t believe how someone could be so obstinate.”

“I understand exactly where you come from, Ingrid. There are some people who just know exactly how to…bring out the worst in you.” Seteth said, his voice trailing off as he noticed Professor Byleth walking by. As if a bolt of lightning sparked between them, their gazes met, and the two men shot smouldering glares at each other. Ingrid swore she saw the new professor stick his tongue out at the archbishop’s right-hand man.

“But you cannot let it affect you.” Seteth continued, his attention returning to Ingrid as Byleth left for the dining hall. “You must control your emotions; not let your emotions control you.”

“Yes, but how?” Ingrid asked, stumped as to how she was supposed to manage such a thing.

“The answer depends on you, Ingrid.” Seteth answered, hammering away a nail. “There are many ways to help control temperament; each person has their own preference as to what method to use. There are some excellent books dedicated to the topic in the library, if you are interested. I highly recommend them. One method is to focus on your present task. There was an ancient sect of warriors that lived in the Sreng Desert who could accomplish incredible focus and strength just by repeating a simple phrase repeatedly.”

“Thank you, Seteth. I will look into those,” Ingrid replied calmly, sighing to herself. Perhaps she could ask Ashe or Tomas to help her look. She doubted that the church would keep records of something as remote as what Seteth had suggested.

Things were silent between the two of them again. Seteth seemed to be almost done with his work, much to Ingrid’s relief. She was worried her stomach would start growling soon and that would’ve been extremely embarrassing if Seteth had overheard it. In the distance, Ingrid could see Bernadetta and Edelgard talking; hanging out right in front of the doorway to what was likely the Adrestian princess’ room.

“So, how long do you think they’ll last?” Ingrid casually asked, a sour scowl on her face. Still sore about the morning’s events, she was not happy to see Bernadetta so soon, but it was almost unavoidable.

“Who will last?” Seteth replied, confused as to who the girl was referring to, still hammering away at a rather difficult nail.

“Edelgard and Bernadetta, as roommates.” She explained, pointing to their general direction. “I give them a month at best before it all falls apart.”

“Well, I prefer to think more optimistically.” Seteth answered calmly. After a moment, he glanced at the girl. “You know Ingrid, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you almost looked jealous.”

“I-I am not jealous!” She angrily stammered, her face flushed. She could hear Seteth chuckle under his breath. “No, I’m not, really!”

“Of course,” Seteth replied, giving the Black Eagle duo another glance as he began to thread the curtain onto the rod that would hold it in place.

“But  _ if _ I were jealous, and only if I were,” she continued, looking a little hesitant. “It would only be because someone chose her as a roommate over me. Bernadetta’s so childish, immature, and spoiled; I can’t imagine what Edelgard sees in her.”

“Do not take it personally, Ingrid.” Seteth cautioned the girl. “It is Edelgard’s choice and you should leave it at that. Perhaps she wants to kindle a bond with a fellow house member. Regardless, it reflects more on her, not you.”

Ingrid nodded silently. The man had a point, and she knew it deep down. But it still burned her that  _ she _ was chosen over her. It didn’t seem right. Ingrid took solace in the fact she wouldn’t have to deal with roommates anymore and that the two likely wouldn’t last long. That gave her some satisfaction.

“And with that, I am done here. I realize this is not ideal, but it is only temporary until we can get a new door installed.” Seteth said, gesturing towards the blue curtain. It was a little strange to think that she wouldn’t have a door to her room, but it wasn’t the end of the world.

“I’ve stationed more knights to keep an eye on this hallway until the door has been fixed, but I advise that you keep your personal belongings in the chest in your room. Being friends with… _ Sylvain _ , you would know that some students may not respect your personal space.” Seteth continued, handling Sylvain’s name as if it was a catalyst for summoning her philandering friend.

Listening intently, Ingrid nodded her head. She didn’t have too many things of value that would be coveted by thieves, but there were a few things that were sentimental that she definitely didn’t want anyone else touching.

“You will have to change in the bathrooms and you must keep in mind that many students may enter without warning.” Seteth continued, gracefully covering the more awkward aspect of her new living situation. “I can try and see if there is room in the knights’ barracks if you’d prefer some more privacy, but--”

“No, it’s fine. Really, I don’t mind.” Ingrid assured him, smiling politely. It wasn’t ideal, but it was something she could definitely manage. It was only temporary, after all.

“As you wish. Your door should be fixed by next week. I will simply have to add another door to the order…” Seteth replied, mumbling at the end. Taking the box of nails from the girl, Seteth spied the small cuts from the morning’s incident marring her hands.

“Are those from earlier? You had your first round of combat training with Pro…  _ Professor Byleth _ today, no?.” He said, gesturing towards her hands.

“Ah, yes they were, and I did. Is there an issue?” Ingrid awkwardly answered, instinctively hiding her hands behind her back.

“Tch, the professor should have been more attentive! You could have reopened your cuts training with a weapon.” Seteth wearily sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he made a mental note to bring it up with the new professor later.

“I’m sure he was simply used to such small things from being a mercenary. They’ve already begun to heal a while ago. A knight should be used to their calluses, no?” Ingrid tried to assuage Seteth’s concerns, pointing out the various reasons Byleth might not have noticed her cuts. They hadn’t given her any grief, even while she used her lance as she usually did.

“Perhaps, but he needs to be more aware to his students’ needs. Have Manuela look it over before training again. Infection is a terrible foe no matter how knightly you are. It seems that I have some business to attend to. Well then, have a good evening, Ingrid.” Seteth replied, giving a curt bow before he left.

“You too, sir.” Ingrid said, bowing in kind as the man left. There was a certain level of awkwardness still in the air after Seteth had left, but overall the exchange was surprisingly pleasant. Despite being enrolled in Garreg Mach Monastery last year, she never interacted with the man much. She knew he was a stickler for rules and was noticeably stern and serious; but he was reasonable and not nearly as bad as she had feared.

Hearing a loud rumble from the pits of her stomach, Ingrid groaned and began to make way towards the dining hall.

====

As he promised, Byleth made his way to the lecture hall to observe Hanneman’s lecture on magic. It had been a long day and he had just finished dinner; Byleth was tired and wanted to go to sleep instead, but he figured that if he didn’t go, Sothis wouldn’t let him sleep. So there he was. 

Passing through the doors to the lecture hall, the room was alight with a low buzz of chatter and Byleth saw a mix of familiar faces and unfamiliar faces.

“Ah, Professor you are here! Please, come sit with us.” Dimitri called out, waving for Byleth’s attention. Sitting next to the prince was Dedue and Ingrid. Next to Ingrid was Sylvain, while Ashe sat on the other side of Dedue. Making his way towards the group, both Dedue and Ashe stood up and shifted a seat over, allowing the professor to sit next to Dimitri.

Sitting down, Byleth had a better view of the others in the lecture hall. Many of the occupants were first or second year students; faces he didn’t recognize. He saw a handful of knights in uniform. At both ends of the audience, Byleth could see the familiar faces of the third year Black Eagle house and Golden Deer house students. Notably, he saw Edelgard smiling at him. Her dark, but dedicated henchman Hubert sat next to her; flashing an ugly scowl at the professor. On the other side, he saw Claude and Hilda both waving at him. Silently, Byleth gave a brief wave at both pairs of students. However, the students weren’t the only ones to recognize him.

“Is that you, Professor?” Hanneman called out from the center stage of the room. “Welcome, welcome! Oh, it is so wonderful to have you here. I assume you are interested in taking the certification exams on the subject as well, yes? At the end of the lecture, please come to my office. I have some light reading for you to help you with that.”

Byleth quietly nodded to the older man, assessing that having the material he could study with for the exams would be helpful. He still had to figure out how he was going to create his own lectures for Friday but if he had time in between and it wasn’t too hard, he could study for the magic certification exam. Suddenly, Byleth’s attention was dragged away from his thoughts as a familiar voice called out his name.

“‘Sup, Professor? Here to get your brain melted like poor Dimitri here?” Sylvain teased, chuckling at the prince’s expense. Ingrid flashed a glare at the redhead as the prince just groaned. He looked like he was going to vomit and Byleth couldn’t help but feel sorry for the boy.

“Oh, it’s not that bad, Your Highness. He’s just going to go over what we already learned so far.” Ashe said, leaning forward so he could speak to the prince just a few seats away.

“I did not understand it then; I do not see how I would understand it now.” Dimitri replied, looking quite gloomy as he began to despair over his fatal incompetence with magic. As Hanneman began to gesture for the class to begin, the buzz in the lecture hall was soon silent as they waited for him to speak.

“As the great General Reinhardt of the Adrestian Empire once said, ‘Magic is everything.’” Hanneman began, standing directly in the middle of the centered stage. “He was undoubtedly a man of great wisdom and absurdly gifted in terms of both physical and magical combat. We will be going over his exploits later this year in your history lectures. I hope you look forward to it.”

A sea of low groans admitted from the small crowd of students, making Hanneman chuckle. Byleth noticed that the only students who seemed to be interested in the topic were Edelgard, Hubert, Lorenz, and Claude.

“Magic is not just used in the matters of combat and healing. It is all around you and affects you on a daily basis.” The older man continued, not deterred by the audience’s previous verbal reaction. “With the combination of knowledge and determination, magic is the catalyst that allows our society to reach further strides to progress and technological advancement.”

Pausing for a moment, the older man reached for a glass of water he had prepared and took a couple of sips. The audience remained silent as they waited for him to continue, although Byleth could hear the whispering of the less attentive in the background.

“In this lecture, we will go over the basic fundamentals of magic and how it shapes our society today. As is the point of a review lecture; nothing I say here will be new material. This is all just a review of what I’ve already discussed in class.” Hanneman reminded the audience, motioning to the board in front of him.

“Now, who here can tell me what the two types of magic are? Mr. Gloucester?” Hanneman called out, pointing to one of the few students who had their hand raised.

“Of course, professor. There is mainly offensive reason magic as well as typically supportive faith magic,” Lorenz replied, looking pleased with himself. Byleth watched as Claude, who sat only a few seats away from Lorenz, whispered something into Hilda’s ear, causing the girl to burst into a fit of giggles. Hanneman did not appreciate the outburst, and glared at the both of them.

“Correct! Faith magic is the art of magic dedicated to healing. Unfortunately, my knowledge of it is at the bare minimum at best. For those who are interested, you will want to see Manuela for education on that subject. Here at the Officer’s Academy, she is the best of the best when it comes to the arts of healing, despite her many faults.” Hanneman said, gazing at Byleth in particular. The new professor just nodded his head quietly as he felt a room full of eyes briefly turned to him, their gazes turning back to the board as Hanneman continued.

“Now what are the two categories of reason magic?” Hanneman asked, turning to the audience. He pointed towards Ashe who had his hand raised.

“C-combat and academia,” the freckled boy nervously stated.

“Wonderful! I am certainly relieved that not all of you are falling asleep in my lectures.” Hanneman said, glaring at Sylvain who just laughed nervously.

“Combat magic is, as it sounds, magic purely designed for combat. Academia magic is magic used by scholars and academics to expand the possibilities of magic in non-combat applications. Here at the Officer’s Academy, we mainly discuss the former. I do have a class and some lectures dedicated to the topic of academia magic. But if you wish to delve deep into that field, you will have to go to the School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad.” Hanneman explained, pointing to the Holy Kingdom capital on a nearby map in the room. Pausing for a moment, the older man began to skim through pieces of parchment he had on him, likely notes for the review lecture.

“For now, let us begin by discussing magic circles…” Hanneman continued, scribbling on the chalkboard behind him.

====

To Byleth’s surprise, Hanneman’s review lecture went by faster than he had expected. But while his brain did not melt, much of the topic was very new to him and he didn’t fully grasp all the concepts in one sitting. He would have to study the reference materials that Hanneman gave him.

Boy, did Hanneman give it to him.

“Byleth, this is foolishness. You are going to hurt yourself.” Sothis said, looking irritated.

“I’ll be fine. You worry too much.” Byleth argued, his breath strained as he struggled to walk. Unfortunately for the former mercenary, Hanneman had given him far too many reference materials. Carrying a heavy stack of countless reference books; Byleth could barely see what was in front of him. It hadn’t been too hard to manage in the hallway, but now that he had reached the staircases, it was an issue. Slowly and step by step, Byleth made his way down at a snail’s pace. 

“Byleth, you can’t even see where you are going. Just make two trips; it is not hard,” Sothis insisted, carefully floating on the sides as to not serve as another visionary obstacle.

“No, I can do it all in one trip.” Byleth insisted, groaning at the weight of the heavy load. “Two trips are for wusses.”

“You are nothing but a pig-headed fool! You are going to fall and get hurt!” Sothis angrily cried out, flailing her arms around. The floating girl had been quite happy with Byleth upon him completing his promise of attending the review lecture, but now she was back at being angry at him.

“It’s fine, I just need to take it slow and--shit!” As if on cue, Byleth managed to fulfill the prophecy of his doom; his poor footing causing him to trip forward. Books went flying and Byleth made a crash landing face-first at the bottom of the stairs. He did not taste any blood in his mouth nor did anything feel broken, but he suspected he would get a nasty bruise come tomorrow.

“Ugh…why didn’t you rewind time like before?” Byleth groaned, recoiling as the pain all over his body began to register. He was just relieved no one else was around to see him fall.

“First of all, I cannot use it as easily as you say. Do not reduce my abilities to a cheap gimmick for charlatans.” Sothis said, staring the young man down. “Second, it is because you will never learn otherwise. The pain you are feeling right now is the price of your hubris and avarice.”

With more groaning, Byleth picked himself up. Giving a moment to clear his head, he began picking up the books in one big stack and continued to carry it all.

“Seriously?!” Sothis cried out, in disbelief at Byleth’s new level of stupidity he had reached. “You  _ just _ fell from a flight of stairs.”

“From here on out there aren’t any more stairs. It's fine, I got this.” Byleth assured her, ignoring the angry, exasperated glares she was sending his way. Slowly but surely, Byleth was making his way across the grounds of the monastery. His arms were killing him, but he was making progress. He was about halfway to his room.

“It is distressing how no one is coming to your aid despite it being obvious that you are struggling.” Sothis murmured aloud, watching the people pass Byleth by without extending a hand to help.

“I am not struggling,” Byleth argued defiantly. “I got this, I got--”

But he did in fact, ‘got this.’ Once more, Byleth went tumbling once more --tripping over a rock or something similar-- books flying; face falling first. Fortunately for him, he landed on the soft earth this time, and it was far less painful. Spitting out a mouthful of dirt he had managed to eat, Byleth rolled on his back and groaned once more.

“Stubborn fool, you are nothing but a lost cause.” Sothis hissed, floating above him. Flat on the ground, Byleth laid there silently deep in thought. Without warning, he began to scoop dirt from the ground on top of himself.

“Byleth, what are you doing now?” The green haired girl asked, sighing to herself wearily.

“I give up. I am throwing in the towel.” Byleth replied in a flat, deadpan voice. “The mighty ‘Ashen Demon’ has fallen. Alas, poor Byleth. I knew him well.”

“Byleth, you are embarrassing yourself. Stop playing in the dirt and get up! People are staring!” Sothis yelled, descending only a few inches from Byleth’s face; hurting Byleth’s ears with her screams. The mention of people staring did give Byleth a momentary pause to reconsider his actions, but he simply became too tired to care anymore.

“Even in my final moments, I am forever plagued by your relentless nagging. The Goddess is cruel to inflict this fate upon me.” Byleth flatly bemoaned, annoyed with Sothis’ continued pestering.

“You are not funny, Byleth.” Sothis hissed, crossing her arms as she floated above him.

“Eh, I’m a little funny.” Byleth argued, closing his eyes he was almost tempted to fall asleep right there on the ground, when a familiar voice called out to him.

“Professor, are you alright?” Opening his eyes, Byleth was met with a towering figure standing above him. Squinting his eyes, he could make out the face of Dedue; one of the Blue Lions.

“No, I have fallen and I can’t get up.” Byleth answered, mostly in jest. He was about to explain what he meant, but stopped when he saw the student had extended his hand out to his teacher. Not wasting an opportunity for help, Byleth grabbed on and was quickly pulled upwards.

“Thanks,” Byleth replied, dusting the dirt he had placed upon himself off his clothes. Looking around, Dedue could see the books that were scattered all over the place.

“Do you need help carrying these books?” he inquired, pointing towards the items in question. Byleth was suddenly very grateful that one of the more physically capable students had stumbled upon him.

“Yes, please.” Byleth said, nodding his head. Both teacher and student began picking up the stray books off the ground in quick succession. Once all books were obtained, Byleth led the tall, older student towards his room. Thanks to Dedue’s help, the former mercenary arrived at his destination in no time. Best of all, Dedue was quiet the whole time, something Byleth thoroughly appreciated. Inside, both Dedue and Byleth placed the books on Byleth’s desk, and the floor when the table had started to creak ominously.

“Is there anything else you need help with?” Dedue asked, placing his half of the books on Byleth’s desks.

“No,” Byleth replied, placing his stack of books on the other side of the desk. All he needed was to get the books to his room and now that was done.

“Alright, then I will be off,” Dedue said, remaining as stoic as always. As he turned around to leave, Byleth suddenly remembered something.

“Wait,” Byleth called out, stopping the boy in his tracks. Dedue turned to his teacher as to what he had to say.

“You’re my favorite,” Byleth said very seriously, only realizing how awkward it sounded when he said it out loud.

“I…I am afraid I do not understand,” Dedue replied, with no clear expression on his face.

“You are quiet and you’re helpful; that makes you my favorite. I thought you should know.” Byleth replied in honesty. He wasn’t sure why he told the boy that, but figured it was fitting.

“I see,” Dedue said, although Byleth wasn’t sure if he actually understood. Even Byleth wasn’t entirely sure. “Goodnight, Professor.”

“Goodnight,” Byleth replied in kind. Giving a curt bow before he left, Dedue left Byleth alone in his room; well, not counting the floating green haired gremlin that forever haunted him. Turning to the two new large stacks of books now in his room, Byleth scowled.

“‘Light reading,’ my ass,” He murmured bitterly, partially regretting that he stepped foot near that review lecture.

====

_ Explosions rung in his ears like the blasts of distant thunder. The sounds of the pained cries of men and horses alike could be heard; and soon after the clanging of steel. Soldiers tried to give out orders amidst the chaos, but they could barely be heard. Fires from the explosion began to spread rapidly; a bright orange light radiating his vision. As the smoke and fumes hit his eyes; he could not help but tear up. The smell of burning flesh permeated soon after; as if the Eternal Flames had broken through the earth and had come to devour them. _

_ He could see masked men in the distance; the symbol of a circular eye entrenched between a pair of branches etched on their cowls. To him, they were the executioners; the harbingers of death.  _

_ A child, standing in the center of the chaos, was powerless to stop them; powerless to help anyone. Frozen in fear, he could not help but stare at the lifeless bodies of the men who gave their lives to protect him and his family; their bodies dripping with fresh blood that would not stop flowing. Once laughing and making jokes; their lives were gone in an instant. Their faces once full of life and joy; now empty and hollow, some unrecognizable beyond measure. In the distance, he could hear someone calling out to him. He couldn’t make out the words at first, but eventually… _

_ “Run, Dimitri!” _

\--

With a violent jolt, Dimitri woke up. Sweating buckets, breathing ragged; the prince of Faerghus clenched his fist tightly and grind the teeth of his jaw as to try and reorient himself to the land of the living. It was a nightmare. Or a memory? The line between the two had been thin for so long.

Rubbing his forehead, Dimitri closed his eyes as he took many deep breaths; desperately trying to calm himself. Looking outside his window, he could see it was still dark outside; no hint of dawn at the horizon. Picking himself off of the bed, Dimitri shuffled his way to the door groggily; his strength slowly starting to come back to him.

Entering the hallways to the dormitories, it was still very dark. Only the candlelight of the wall lamps gave way of any illumination. Carefully making his way through quietly so he did not wake anyone; Dimitri made his way to the dining hall, where he managed to grab a glass and fill it with water. Chugging it desperately, the prince of Faerghus blankly stared at his surroundings; suddenly recalling that he needed to find the time. Looking around, he spotted a time-keeping candle on the wall of the dining hall. It seemed to be roughly one in the morning.

Dimitri winced at the awkward time of night. While he had certainly gotten more sleep than the day prior, he knew the chances of him being able to get back to sleep were dreadfully slim. More than likely, he was going to be up for the day and would pay for it later.

Refilling his glass and bringing it with him, the prince slowly shuffled his way back to the student dormitories. As he made his way down the hallway, he could hear a noise in the distance; a voice. It was a girl’s voice. Worried he was overhearing something carnal, Dimitri quickened his pace back to his room, but soon realized that the sounds were not moans, but sobs. Someone was weeping, and with total abandon.

Looking around him, he could not see anyone along the boy’s dormitory hallway. Carefully and cautiously, Dimitri made his way around the corner and looked down the hallway to the girl’s dormitories. At the very end, he could see a girl in the distance. She was shorter than him, but looked the average height of most of the girls as well as roughly his age. He could see she had long, wavy hair but he struggled to make out the exact color of it in the dark of the night. Slowly, he made his way down the hall; her crying growing louder and louder with each step.

“Excuse me, are you okay?” Dimitri harshly whispered, trying to reach her but didn’t want to wake anyone else. But the girl didn’t seem to hear him. He was close now, very close. She was looking consumed in her despair that she didn’t see or hear him approaching her. Her arms folded on the balcony, the prince reached out towards them.

“Is there something wrong?” the prince inquired, gently grasping the girl by the wrist. He could feel a warm liquid on them; likely the very tears she was crying. Feeling the blonde boy’s touch, the girl practically jumped out of her skin and immediately retracted her arm from his grip. Her sobbing came to a sudden hitch and the prince could hear her sniffling deeply to try and regain her composure.

“I-I’m so s-sorry, I must have disturbed you. P-Please excuse me.” The girl whimpered, her voice cracking at the end. She bolted off, practically running away from Dimitri. He wanted to call out to her, but she had retreated into her room and closed the door by the time he had realized what was going on. Now alone in the hallway, Dimitri relented that there was nothing he could do now. He felt like he had heard the girl’s voice before, but could not give a name or face to it.

Retreating back to his room, Dimitri quietly closed the door behind him. He placed the glass of water on his desk, and turned to the lamp that sat on it. Lighting it, the flame lit up the room a modest amount. It was at least enough to where he could do some writing or reading. Grabbing the glass of water with his other hand, he began to drink when he noticed something odd on the clear glass. A large smudge that smeared the outside of the glass.

Looking down, Dimitri examined his hand that had just touched the glass, and realized it was covered in a red liquid. As if he suddenly regained his sense of smell, he noticed a far too familiar iron-like scent permeate the air. A shiver ran down his spine upon the realization that the liquid the girl had shed was not tears, but blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, credit to beta reading this chapter goes to Dtale! He's been such a huge help for me these past months and I'm forever grateful for it. Between helping me out, he's also started on his own fic project and I just want to give that a shout out. It's a FE: Blazing Sword x BNHA fic! I def recommend checking it out. <3  
https://archiveofourown.org/works/26162044/chapters/63656317
> 
> Second, I think it's a good time as any to let you guys know in advance that there will be some crushes/unrequited feelings from various characters for other characters that will not go anywhere and I'm not going to tag them. For some very select characters, there will be some of physical trysts (gee, I wonder who I could be referring to...) both with (throwaway) OCs and established characters. Again, not tagging them if they're not end game. Of course when "end game" occurs is VERY relative across the board for all pairings and this is very much a *slow burn.*
> 
> So, I think that's it. Wear your mask and stay safe! Hope you enjoyed the chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Story will be split into four or five parts, each part will be of different sizes in length. Chapters will also vary in length/size.  
2\. Pairings will be tagged later once they show in the story. There will be M/M, F/F, and M/F romances.  
3\. While there will be a handful of light-hearted content, a lot of the content later will be dark and can be intensive. Lots of focus on mental illnesses, trauma, and abuse.  
4\. Rating may be subject to change down the line.  
5\. This is canon-divergent, but there will be multiple instances of this, not just one branch off.  
6\. A lot of OCs down the line. Mostly Nabateans and Almyrans. All of which the respective lore towards them is big "It's Free Real Estate."


End file.
